


Companion for Hire

by MimiWritesHerFandoms



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Escorts, Angst, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Oral Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2020-12-15 00:51:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21025058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MimiWritesHerFandoms/pseuds/MimiWritesHerFandoms
Summary: Steve backed himself into a corner and now he has to produce a wife out of thin air before the weekend’s work retreat. He’s willing to do whatever he has to in order to save his job. Enter you, a companion-for-hire. Whatever he needs you to be, that’s what you’ll be.It shouldn’t be that hard to pretend to be husband and wife for three days, especially when your fake husband is handsome as hell and one of the sweetest people you’ve ever met. It’s a job, just like any other job. So, why are you having a hard time separating the fantasy from reality?





	1. Last Resort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve has gotten himself into a predicament, one he can’t get out of no matter how hard he tries. You are his last resort.

"Rogers!"

Steve spun around, his smile faltering as he realized that not only was his boss standing behind him, but also one of his least favorite co-workers. Maybe if Brock wasn't such a gigantic dick, Steve might have more respect for him. The man took annoying to an entirely different level. Steve had disliked him since he'd started at SHIELD Aerodynamics. In fact, it was Brock's fault that he was in his current predicament.

"How's it going?" Phil, his boss, asked. "You ready for this weekend?"

"Yes, sir," Steve smiled, warily. "Definitely."

"I can't wait to meet your wife," Brock piped up, an insufferable smirk on his face. "You so rarely talk about her I'm beginning to think you made her up."

Steve gritted his teeth and reminded himself that punching Brock in the face would be frowned upon. He swallowed back his irritation and clenched his fists at his side.

"Well, she can't wait to meet you guys," Steve said, smiling even wider. "She's really looking forward to the retreat."

Brock clapped him on the shoulder, which made Steve's skin crawl, before taking his leave and heading for the bank of offices on the other side of the huge room. Steve turned back to Phil and smiled warily.

"Brock's a lot to take," Phil chuckled. "But, you get used to him. See you Friday night, Rogers,"

"Friday night," Steve nodded. "Can't wait."

Steve watched Phil as he walked away, his head spinning, wondering how on earth he was going to find a wife in the next three days.

* * *

** _Two Months Earlier_ **

“Jesus Christ, Rogers, you need to get laid,” Rumlow muttered, rolling his eyes. “Why the hell are you so goddamn uptight?”

“I’m not uptight,” Steve grumbled. “I’m careful. Precise. I’m a perfectionist.”

“Like I said, uptight,” Brock chuckled. “Seriously, though, I know somebody -”

“I’m not interested, Brock,” he sighed.

“Oh, come on, she’s really great. Cute, smart, funny, and bonus, she’s my sister, so you’d get to hang out with me at family functions,” Brock laughed.

The thought of spending any time with Brock outside of work made Steve feel like vomiting. Brock’s overly macho attitude grated on his nerves, to a point that he was barely able to tolerate the man most days. He couldn’t imagine spending time with him outside of work, on purpose.

“I’ll give her your number, you two can grab dinner or something,” Brock said, grabbing his phone and swiping through the contacts. “Give me your number and I’ll text it to you.”

“I don’t think my wife would like that,” Steve blurted.

“Your wife?” 

The look on Brock’s face was downright comical and if Steve hadn’t been scrambling to figure out what the hell had just come out of his mouth and why he’d said it, he would have laughed.

“Uh, yeah?” Steve mumbled. “My wife would lose her mind if I had another woman’s number in my phone.” He shrugged. “Sorry to disappoint your sister.”

“I had no idea you were married,” Brock muttered. “You don’t wear a wedding ring and you’ve never mentioned a wife before.”

“I, uh, lost my ring a while back, haven’t replaced it yet. Trust me, I hear about it every day.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair and sighed heavily. “And are you sure I’ve never mentioned her? I’m sure I have.”

Brock seemed confused, but he shook it off. “Maybe you did and I just wasn’t listening.”

“That’d be my guess,” Steve smirked. Brock was extremely self-centered and he knew it, so the fact that he might have missed Steve discussing a wife wasn’t completely off the grid. Now maybe Brock would get off his back. It wasn’t the first time the man had brought up his sister and the possibility of Steve dating her.

“So, when do we get to meet this mysterious wife?” Brock asked.

* * *

** _Present Day_ **

“Rogers? Earth to Rogers?”

Steve looked up, his pencil falling to the desk, jostled from the memories replaying in his head by Brock’s annoying whine.

“Yeah?”

“I asked if your wife was _ really _ coming this weekend? Or are you gonna come up with some excuse for her not to be there?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Brock shrugged. “It just seems like every time we might get a chance to meet the elusive Mrs. Rogers, there’s some crazy reason she can’t be there. I figured this weekend would be like the company picnic or that time the company bought tickets to the Yankees game.” He sat back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. “She won’t be there.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “She’ll be there,” he grumbled.

“Yeah, we’ll see,” Brock snorted. “Hey, what’s her name anyway?”

Steve rose to his feet and grabbed his backpack from beneath his desk. “It’s Mrs. Rogers,” he growled before turning and stalking away.

He slammed his car door far harder than necessary, the anger seemingly rolling off of him. It had taken every ounce of his self-control not to pop Brock in his big fat mouth. He couldn’t believe he’d gotten himself into this mess and he had no idea how he was going to get out of it. Not only was Brock expecting to meet his wife, but so was Phil _ and _ the head of the company, Nick Fury. SHIELD Aerodynamics prided themselves on their family friendliness and when Phil had found out that the young upstart he’d hired was married - thanks to Brock’s big mouth - he’d been thrilled. He’d gone on and on about how excited he was to meet Steve’s wife. Steve was running out of excuses for his wife’s absence from his work events. He’d dug himself into a deep hole and he couldn’t see any way out of it.

He grabbed his phone and dialed the only person he could think of who might be able to help him.

“Bucky? It’s Steve. I need your help. I need a wife and I need one quick.”

* * *

“This is stupid,” Steve muttered.

“You got any other ideas?” Bucky asked. “You’re the one who needs a wife by the end of the week. Seeing as how you broke up with Sharon more than a year ago, I don’t think she’ll jump at the chance. I don’t look good in a dress and Sam’s out of town. I’m not sure we’ve got another option.”

“Jesus, you’re a jerk,” Steve grumbled.

“And you’re a punk,” Bucky shrugged. “That’s why I like you so much. Just hit send and get it over with.”

Steve grimaced, his finger hovering over the enter button on his computer. He took a deep breath and hit it, sending the email across the web.

Bucky clapped him on the back. “Now we wait. You should have a wife in no time.”

“But an escort, Buck? You really think that was my only option?”

“Yes,” Bucky sighed. “For the millionth time, yes. It’s not like you could pick some random girl up at a bar and ask her to pretend to be your wife for the weekend. A companion-for-hire is the best way to go. Those women play pretend for a living. You saw the ad, whatever you need, that’s what she’ll be.”

“Companion-for-hire is just a fancy way of saying escort,” Steve muttered as he grabbed a couple of beers from the refrigerator and handed one to his best friend. He’d been desperate when he’d called Bucky and of course, Bucky had come through in a pinch. It had never occurred to Steve to call an escort service, but he had to admit, Bucky was right. It was the most logical way to go.

Bucky nodded his thanks. “Just, don’t call her an escort to her face. It might piss her off. I don’t understand why you can’t just ‘fess up and admit you don’t have a wife? Tell your boss you were just trying to get that Rumlow guy off your back.”

“I would, except we just had this huge meeting about honesty and integrity in the workplace and how that bleeds over into every aspect of our lives. Coulson went on and on about how Fury expects it in our everyday lives as well as our work lives and how that honesty and integrity will take us far. So what, I should walk into his office and say “hey, by the way, I’ve been lying for weeks”? I don’t think so.”

“Wow, guess not,” Bucky chuckled. “Sucks to be you.”

Steve’s cell phone rang, the number on it coming up as ‘unknown’ interrupting any further conversation. He and Bucky looked at each other for a heartbeat, then Steve grabbed it, fumbling with it and almost dropping it before hitting the button.

“H-hello?”

He listened for a few minutes, scribbling on a notepad on the counter, Bucky staring at him expectantly, his fingers tapping on the counter. When he hung up, he pushed the pad of paper toward Bucky so he could read what it said.

“Wow, that was quick,” Bucky grinned. “An hour, huh?”

Steve nodded. “One hour until I meet my wife.”

* * *

“Steven Grant Rogers, age thirty-five, an engineer at SHIELD Aerodynamics,” you murmured, reading from the email on your phone. “Says here he needs a wife for some weekend work retreat.”

“A wife?” Nat scoffed. “How nerdy is this guy that he can’t get one of his own? You know an engineer is just a polite way of saying he wears short sleeve dress shirts with a tie and a pocket protector, right? And those old school thick-lensed glasses.

“Knock it off, Nat,” you scolded. “I’m sure he is perfectly nice.” You giggled and shook your head, knowing damn well she was probably right. “It won’t be the first time I pretended to be someone’s wife. Probably won’t be the last.”

Nat swung into the parking lot and parked. You always arrived half an hour early for appointments such as this; it gave you a chance to get a good table at the back of the restaurant and for Nat to find a seat at the bar where she could watch any interactions between you and your potential client. Natasha had become your bodyguard of sorts, watching out for you at those first meetings, giving you her first impressions of the men requesting your services. You’d turned down more than one job because Nat had a bad feeling. You trusted her instincts.

You’d barely taken a seat and ordered a drink before the hostess was walking your way, a tall, blond-haired, blue-eyed, extremely handsome man behind her. That couldn’t possibly be Steve Rogers. No way a man that looked like that needed a fake wife.

Except it was. The hostess stopped beside you and pointed at the table, then she took her leave. You shoved back your chair, nearly falling over as you rose to your feet.

“Steve?”

The blond god held out his hand and nodded. “You must be Y/N?”

You swallowed, let out a shaky breath, and shook his outstretched hand. “N-nice to meet you. Um, won’t you sit down?”

Steve eased into the chair across from you, propped his ankle on his knee, and crossed his arms over his substantial chest. You knew you were staring, but you couldn’t help it. The man was gorgeous. You cleared your throat and folded your hands in front of you.

“So, according to the email, you need someone to act as your wife for some kind of work retreat?”

Steve nodded. “I, uh, got myself into a bit of a bind at work and now, they think I have a wife. I’ve run out of excuses and she needs to be at the retreat with me this weekend.”

“Okay, that sounds doable,” you said. “Just so you know, an entire weekend, Saturday and Sunday -”

“And Friday,” he added.

“Mm-kay, Friday through Sunday.” You tapped your fingers on the table as you did the calculations in your head. “That’s going to run you, oh, about three grand. Anything beyond that and we’ll have to renegotiate.”

“It will only be this weekend,” Steve mumbled. “I think my wife and I will be breaking up after this.”

You shook your head and giggled. “Damn, talk about a quickie divorce.”

For the first time since he’d sat down, Steve smiled. “Sorry, doll,” he purred. “Guess it wasn’t meant to be.”

Your stomach dropped at the tone of his voice and you felt heat rush to your cheeks. You took a drink of water, hoping that Steve didn’t notice your hand shaking. Once you felt a modicum of your self-control return, you set the glass down and forced yourself to look into his blue eyes.

“I do have some ground rules for all of my clients,” you stated, sitting up straight. You hated this part, but if you didn’t lay it out from the get-go, the lines would get blurred, and you’d get yourself in trouble. Nat couldn’t follow you on an out of town work retreat, so you had to be very clear.

“All right, let’s hear them,” Steve replied.

“First and foremost, no sex,” you said. “If you’re looking to get laid, I am not the girl for you. I will play the doting wife, hold your hand, call you pet names, act like I’m in love with you, hell, I’ll even kiss you if necessary, but I will _ not _ have sex with you. I’m not that kind of companion.”

One eyebrow shot up, but he was nodding. “Understood,” he murmured.

“Second, no hiring me to make ex-girlfriends jealous. It’s immature and stupid and I won’t be a part of it.”

“I agree, it is immature and stupid,” Steve chuckled. “No exes will be in attendance.”

“And finally, on top of the three grand, you pay for everything all weekend, food, outings, you name it, you pay for it. Oh, and the three grand is due in cash before I even get in the car with you.”

“Is that it?” he asked.

“That’s it,” you nodded. “Do we have a deal?” This time it was you holding out your hand waiting to see if Steve would agree to your terms.

“I believe we do,” he said, his large hand wrapping around yours, squeezing gently.

* * *

Two hours later, you were home in your pajamas, sitting on your bed with your tablet, messaging Steve. After Natasha had given you her stamp of approval, you’d contacted Steve to hash out the details. The two of you were getting to know one another before Friday and over the years, you’d discovered that men tended to be more honest with you if they didn’t have to look you in the face while they told you about themselves and their lives.

You’d already been talking for an hour, about his family, where he’d gone to school, his job, and why he needed a fake wife. Except, you weren’t getting the answer to the one burning question you had.

_ Why don’t you have a real girlfriend, Steve? No offense or anything, but you are by far the hottest guy that has ever hired me. It doesn’t seem like you’d have a lot of trouble finding a girlfriend or a wife. _

** _I’m the hottest guy that’s ever hired you, huh? /wink emoji/_ **

_ Don’t change the subject, Rogers. Why don’t you have a girlfriend? _

It took forever before you got an answer, so long, in fact, you were starting to wonder if he wasn’t going to answer you at all. You were about ready to tell him never mind when a message popped up.

** _I guess maybe I haven’t found the right woman, you know? I thought Sharon was the one, but she didn’t feel that way about me._ **

_ Sharon? _

** _My ex. We broke up over a year ago._ **

_ You’ve been single for a year? _

** _Yeah, I guess I have._ **

_ You’re making me crazy, Rogers. Literally crazy. _

** _Why? What did I do?_ **

You shook your head and pushed a hand through your hair. This guy was oblivious. From what you could tell, he was the perfect package, attractive _ and _ a good guy. How could any woman not want him? And how could he not know he was the perfect package? Men were so damn frustrating.

_ Nothing. Never mind. I’m going to get some sleep. We can talk some more tomorrow, okay? _

You said your goodbyes and shut down your tablet. You tossed it to the side of the bed and laid down, running through everything Steve had told you, again and again, committing it to memory. You had until Friday to become Mrs. Steve Rogers. For some reason, you wanted to get it perfect.

* * *

Steve stood beside a gorgeous red Audi R8, watching you as you came down the steps. You'd agreed to let him pick you up, though you'd given him Natasha's address. You didn't give your clients your address, no matter how nice and normal they seemed.

You let out a low whistle. "Nice ride," you grinned. "Doesn't seem like a low-level engineer's kind of car, though."

Steve smiled as he popped the trunk and took your bag. "My parents left me a chunk of change when they passed away. I splurged on two things. I bought this car and I bought a townhouse in Brooklyn."

His forthrightness surprised you. You hadn't expected it, especially considering the subject matter.

"I'm so sorry, Steve."

He shrugged, slammed the trunk closed, and opened the passenger side door for you. You shook your head, crossed your arms, and waited. 

“Right, sorry.” He reached into the backseat and grabbed a manila folder, from which he extracted an envelope. He held it out to you.

You took it without looking in it and climbed into the car. Once Steve was seated beside you, he dropped the manila folder in your lap.

"What's this?" you asked.

"Everything we might not have talked about is in the folder. Hopefully, I hit it all - friends, family, college, everything I could think of, you know? I figured you could use it to build on what we talked about the last few days.” He started the car but he left it in park and turned to look at you. “We can flesh out our marriage on the way.” He shook his head. “That’s about the most bizarre sentence I’ve ever had come out of my mouth.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his observation. He was right, it was bizarre, though, for you, it wasn’t unusual. You composed yourself and opened the folder. “Where are we going anyway? I don’t think I ever asked.” You were surprised at yourself, that was very uncharacteristic of you. You had to quit letting Steve’s good looks distract you.

“Montauk,” Steve replied. “A mere three hour drive away.”

“I think we’re gonna need it,” you murmured, flipping through the very organized file. “There’s a lot of stuff in here.”

“Well, you have to pretend to be my wife for three days, I figured you needed all the information you could get.”

“You’re right, I’m going to need it. Who knew our surreptitious relationship would require so much homework?” You laughed and shook your head. “You ready for this, Mr. Rogers?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be, Mrs. Rogers,” Steve smirked as he pulled away from the curb. “Let’s do this.”


	2. Montauk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Steve arrive in Montauk for his work retreat.

As Steve turned down the drive leading to the hotel, his eyes darting around the lot, looking for a parking space, he caught a glimpse of Y/N digging through her purse. He’d just eased into an empty spot when he noticed her pull a simple gold band from the purse and slip it on her finger. 

“Shit,” he mumbled, glancing at his finger. “I forgot about rings.”

“Well, since you already told Brock you lost yours, we can stick with that story,” she shrugged. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. He felt like an idiot for forgetting something as basic as wedding rings. It made him wonder what else he was going to forget.

“Hey, it’ll be fine,” she murmured, catching his hand in hers. “We got this. We covered all the bases on the way up. We just have to keep it simple and not try to get too crazy. Right?”

“Right,” Steve smiled, though it didn’t feel genuine.

“Come on.” She shoved open the car door and stepped out, leaving him no time to argue.

Steve’s hands shook and a line of sweat slid down his forehead toward his ear. He drew in a shaky breath and stepped out of the car. Y/N stood by the trunk, smoothing her skirt, looking completely calm and cool. He envied her. 

She held out her hand to him, smiling. He’d hated this idea, even cursed Bucky out for suggesting it, but he found himself enjoying the time he’d been able to spend with Y/N. The three-hour drive to Montauk had flown by, the two of them talking and joking all the way. Not only had they “fleshed out” their marriage, but Steve had also gotten to know her as well, though he hadn’t failed to notice how she avoided answering the most personal of questions. It only made him want to know more.

Steve met her by the trunk of the car, jumping slightly when she took his hand and gripped his forearm with her other hand. She leaned into him, basically snuggled up against his side. Steve took another deep breath, the scent of honey and lavender filling his nostrils. She looked up at him, waiting for him to make a decision.

On the other side of the parking lot, he could see his co-workers milling about on the lawn along the side of the building, some seated at picnic tables, others mingling and making conversation.

Steve straightened his shoulders and squeezed her hand, then he was striding purposefully across the dirt lot, his eyes dancing over the crowd, finally landing on Brock, whose eyes widened noticeably and his mouth fell open when he saw Steve.

“Steve!” He turned to see Mr. Coulson hurrying toward them, a welcoming smile on his face. “You made it!”

“Mr. Coulson,” Steve smiled and shook his hand. “It’s good to see you. This is my wife, Y/N.”

“How do you do, Mr. Coulson?” she said, taking his proffered hand. 

“Mrs. Rogers, it’s so good to meet you,” Coulson replied. “Call me Phil, please.”

“Phil it is then,” she smiled. “I’m so happy to meet you.”

“We were beginning to think you didn’t exist,” Brock chuckled from behind them.

Steve stiffened, his hand clamping down on hers. He turned to see Brock eyeing Y/N up and down. So not only did Brock’s comment annoy him, but the man’s overt examination of his “wife” bothered him as well. She was a beautiful woman and technically, she didn’t belong to him, but he still felt a twinge of jealousy.

“I know and I’m so sorry about that,” Y/N laughed, smiling widely at Brock. “I ducked out of a couple of those get-to-togethers due to work obligations and made my poor husband make excuses for me, but I couldn’t resist Montauk. I love it up here.”

“I’m Brock,” Rumlow said, grabbing Y/N’s hand and holding it tightly between both of his. “I work with your husband.”

“Well, aren’t you lucky?” she purred, extricating her hand from Brock’s grip and wrapping her arms around Steve’s waist. She pushed up on her toes and pressed a feather-light kiss to his cheek. “I’m going to find a drink, honey. Do you want a beer?”

“That sounds great,” Steve murmured.

“Let me show you where the bar is,” Phil said, gesturing to the other side of the large lawn. “I don’t think Steve has ever told me what you do?”

“I’m a party planner,” Steve heard her say as she followed Phil to the bar.

“Wow, how’d you get a woman like that?”

Steve had forgotten that Brock was standing behind him. He sighed inwardly and turned around.

“Luck, I guess,” Steve shrugged. 

Brock raised one eyebrow and huffed loudly. “Whatever, Rogers,” he muttered angrily. “Guess you proved me wrong. I thought for sure you were full of shit, but you really are married.”

“Why would I lie about something like that, Brock?” Steve asked as nicely as he could. “That would be stupid.” He spun on his heel and hurried after Phil and Y/N, anxious to get away from Brock and his annoyingly accurate comments.

Y/N smiled widely at him and held out a beer, his favorite nonetheless. He took it from her and without even thinking twice about it, he leaned over and kissed her.

“Thanks,” he whispered.

“You’re welcome,” she murmured. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I’m fine.” He cleared his throat and pushed a hand through his hair. “What do you say we mingle?”

“Sounds great,” she replied, taking his hand and holding it loosely in hers. “Whatever you want to do.”

* * *

Three hours later, your back hurt, your feet were throbbing, and your jaw ached from smiling so much. After sitting through dinner and a lengthy presentation on the future of SHIELD Aerodynamics, as well as meeting Steve’s colleagues and enduring Brock’s obvious advances and inappropriate questions, you were exhausted. You wanted nothing more than to climb into bed and get a good night’s sleep. After the presentation had wrapped up, you’d slipped out of the crowd, grabbed a drink, and wandered across the lawn towards the beach. You stopped near the end of the building and leaned against the wall, your back to the crowd, and pulled your phone from your pocket.

Nat had been texting you off and on for the last couple of hours, and you could tell by the increase in frequency that she was getting worried. She had every right; you hadn’t called or texted her since you got to Montauk and that violated her “check-in frequently” rule. You quickly dialed her number.

“Jesus, woman, you’ve missed like ten check-ins,” she grumbled.

“Hello to you, too,” you laughed. “I’m fine. We’ve just been busy and surrounded by people since we got here. This was the first chance I had to get away.”

“How are things going?” Nat asked.

“Really well,” you replied. “Steve’s great, just as sweet and funny as I thought he’d be, super easy to get along with. One of his co-workers is a complete douche, literally hitting on me even though I’m married -”

“Fake married,” Nat pointed out.

“You know what I mean, Natasha,” you mumbled.

“I don’t think I have ever heard you call one of your clients sweet or funny,” Nat said. “That’s a first.”

“Steve is...he’s different,” you sighed. “I don’t understand why he’s alone, why he isn’t with somebody.”

“Sometimes, people aren’t what they appear to be,” your friend said. “Maybe Steve’s not as great as you seem to think he is.”

“Nat -”

“Just be careful,” she warned, not for the first time.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Steve walking your way. You said your goodbyes to Natasha and put your phone back in your pocket.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” you murmured. “Sorry, I, uh, needed a minute.”

“Of course,” Steve nodded. “I could use one myself. Brock’s been hounding me all evening, asking me a million questions about you, about us, about our marriage. I had to walk away before I punched him. I am pretty sure he doesn't believe we’re married and he’s trying to catch me in a lie.”

“Speak of the devil,” you muttered, pushing yourself away from the wall and stepping closer to Steve. “He’s headed our way.”

Steve glanced over his shoulder before turning back to you. He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I can’t catch a break.”

You cut him off, your mouth on his, your arms going around his neck, your body flush against his. Your nails scraped against the back of his neck as you pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. Steve responded immediately, his arms sliding around your waist, his hands splayed across your back.

“Pick me up,” you murmured against his mouth. “Pick me up like you’re going to take me right up against this wall.”

Steve didn’t hesitate. He picked you up as if you weighed nothing, growling as he pressed you into the wall, your legs sliding around the back of his thighs, a startled gasp leaving you when his hand slid around your throat and his mouth slanted over yours. He kissed you as if he owned you and the way your stomach twisted in response surprised you. You returned the kiss eagerly, losing yourself in the moment, cursing under your breath when Steve pulled away from you.

“Is he gone?” he asked.

You looked past Steve and nodded. “He’s headed back to the tables.”

Steve set you on your feet and took a step back. “Sorry if I got carried away,” he said. “I wanted it to look real.”

“N-no, that was great,” you nodded. “I-I don’t think he’ll be doubting us after that.”

“I’m gonna get our bags from the car,” he said, walking backward. “I’ll meet you at the bar. I could use another beer.” He turned and hurried away.

You slumped against the wall, your nails digging into the hard brick. Jesus, that had never happened before. You’d kissed countless clients, pretended to be girlfriends, wives, and such too many times to count, but not once had desire twisted through your nerve endings like it had when you’d kissed Steve. You blew out a shaky breath and pushed a hand through your hair.

“Okay, a momentary lapse of sanity,” you mumbled to yourself. “I just have to keep reminding myself that this is a job.”

You shoved yourself away from the wall and headed for the bar. You could use another glass or two - or maybe three - of wine yourself, especially after that earth-shattering kiss. You needed to get yourself under control.


	3. Ruschmeyer’s

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock’s need to discover the truth is pushing you and Steve even closer together.

Steve hurried across the parking lot to his car, grateful that it was dark so that no one could see the substantial erection straining against the zipper of his khaki pants. He dug his keys out of his pocket as he walked, wincing as his fingers brushed his cock. He certainly hadn’t expected to have that kind of reaction to kissing Y/N. It had surprised him when she’d thrown her arms around him and kissed him, and when she’d told him to pick her up like he was going to take her against the wall, Jesus, the thought of doing just that had sent blood rushing to his dick and heat flooding his body. He still couldn’t believe he’d done it, throwing caution to the wind and forgetting to hold himself in check, completely out of character for him. Her response had nearly done him in, her nails digging into the back of his neck, her legs wrapping around him, and the way the kiss had deepened into what had seemed like something more. It had almost seemed real.

But it wasn’t.

His cell phone rang, startling him. He yanked it out of his pocket and hit the button.

“Yeah,” he muttered angrily.

“Hey,” Bucky chuckled. “Rough night?”

“You might say that,” Steve sighed. “It’s been interesting, to say the least.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

Steve leaned against the side of his car and scrubbed a hand over his face. He thought about telling Bucky about the kiss and what it had done to him, but he kind of wanted to keep that information to himself, for now anyway. After all, it didn’t mean anything, it was part of the act, and telling Bucky about it might turn it into something it wasn’t.

“Steve?”

“Sorry, Buck, got lost in my head,” he said. “Rumlow is being an ass, following me around, asking a million questions, implying that he doesn’t think Y/N and I are married. Shit, he’s even been hitting on her.”

“Wow, he really is a dick,” Bucky said. “You want me to come up there and kick his ass?”

“I’d actually love it if you did that,” Steve snorted. “But I’d probably get fired.”

“How’re things with Y/N?” Bucky asked, trying to sound nonchalant and failing miserably.

“You’re awful at acting like you don’t really care,” Steve laughed. “She’s fine. I’m fine. Everybody is fine.”

“Really? Because you don’t sound fine.”

“Let’s just say she’s really good at her job,” Steve said, “and leave it at that.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means she’s a fabulous actress, Buck. She might even have me believing she’s in love with me.” 

“Steve -”

“Look, I gotta go, Buck. I’ll call you tomorrow if I have time.” He disconnected the call and shoved his phone back into his pocket, then he popped the trunk and dragged out their bags. Five minutes later he’d deposited them with one of the valets in the lobby, picked up their room keys, and he was on his way back to the bar.

His eyes were drawn to her as soon as he stepped outside. She stood at the bar alone, a glass of white wine in her hand. She was absolutely gorgeous, her dress hugging her curves, a faint smile on her face. As soon as she saw Steve, she grabbed a beer from the bartender and headed his way, weaving her way through the crowd with a smile.

“I believe you requested another beer,” she smiled.

“You didn’t have to get it for me,” he replied. “But, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She looked over her shoulder at the group gathered behind them. “Seems like the crowd is thinning.”

Steve checked his watch. “It’s almost eleven. Engineers need their beauty rest,” he chuckled. “We turn into pumpkins at midnight.”

Y/N leaned against him and gazed up at him through her eyelashes. “Oh really?” she murmured. “That I gotta see.”

Heat rose in his cheeks and it felt like his stomach was in his throat, desire sparking along his skin where she touched him. He swallowed and forced a smile onto his face. It had been so long since anyone had flirted with him, since he’d allowed himself to be out in public with a female, that he didn’t know how to respond. He’d used up all of his moves during the kiss earlier.

She caught his hand in hers and squeezed it. “Relax, Steve,” she whispered. “At least try and act like you like me.” She winked at him before brushing a kiss across his cheek.

“Sorry,” he chuckled. “I’m out of practice with stuff like this.”

“Talking to women?” she giggled.

Steve laughed and shook his head. “Busted.” He stifled a yawn with the back of his hand. “Jesus, I’m exhausted. Can we call it a night?”

“I am totally okay with that,” she nodded. “I’ve had enough smiling for one day.”

“Time for your grumpy face?” he asked, nudging her with his elbow.

Y/N laughed and leaned her head against his arm, her shoulders shaking a little. An overwhelming urge to kiss her again came over him.

Brock appeared out of nowhere, materializing out of the shadows like a ghost or something, clearing his throat as he put his hand on Y/N’s shoulder. She jumped, her grip on Steve’s hand tightening, shrugging off Brock’s hand and stepping closer to Steve. 

“You two are just so adorable, it’s sickening,” Brock grumbled.

“Brock,” Steve muttered, his attempt at a smile feeling more like a grimace of pain. “We can’t seem to get away from you tonight.”

Brock clapped him on the back, hard enough to make him stumble forward a few steps. “Just keeping you on your toes, Rogers.” He winked at Y/N before disappearing into the crowd.

“Holy shit, I think you might be right, Steve. He might not believe we’re married.” Y/N tugged on his arm, drawing his attention to her. She pulled him back a few steps, away from everyone, and dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “We’re going to have to be extra careful. Any time we’re in a group, we need to be sure we play the doting married couple, hand-holding, hugging, whatever it takes.”

“Yeah, you’re right, we need to lay it on thick,” Steve nodded. He glanced over his shoulder at the people behind him. “That might make the quickie divorce seem a little odd though if we spend the whole weekend acting like we’re disgustingly in love and then come Monday I’m suddenly getting a divorce.”

“We’ll think of something,” she said. “I’m good at this, trust me. Come on, let’s get some sleep, get a break from Brock.”

They made their rounds, talking to several of Steve’s work friends, while making sure they avoided Brock, before saying goodnight to not only Coulson but Nick Fury as well. 

By the time they headed to their room, Steve was dragging his feet and he could barely keep his eyes open. He unlocked the door and shoved it open. There was one light on in the corner, illuminating the large queen-sized bed that dominated the room, their luggage under the window.

“And...there’s one bed,” he groaned, pushing the door closed behind him and leaning against it. All he wanted to do was crawl into a comfortable bed and sleep for several hours, but now it looked like he’d be sleeping on the floor. There was no way that the chair would hold him up. It was nothing more than a glorified beach chair. “Guess I’m sleeping on the floor.”

Y/N immediately shook her head. “Not necessary, Steve. You stay on your side and I’ll stay on mine. We’re adults, we can handle it. Right?”

“Right,” Steve nodded, watching her closely as she grabbed her bag and took it into the bathroom. Sure, he could sleep by an insanely attractive woman and _ not _ touch her. Like she’d said, he was an adult.

* * *

You slipped into the bathroom and shut the door, letting out the breath you felt like you’d been holding all night. You’d barely recovered from the kiss you’d shared with Steve when he’d reappeared at your side, flirting in that adorably cute and awkward way he had. Which was to say, not very well, not that it stopped you from wanting to kiss him again.

You leaned over the sink and splashed some cold water on your face. Being attracted to a client was a completely new thing for you and it was throwing you off your game. You had to keep reminding yourself that this was a job, that Steve was a client. Maybe you shouldn’t have taken the job, maybe when you’d seen how attractive Steve was and learned just how sweet and kind he was, you should have told him no.

Of course, hindsight was twenty-twenty and it wasn’t like you could go back in time and change things. You just had to make it through the next two days and you’d be okay. You could do this. You just had to keep reminding yourself that Steve was just a client.

You washed your face, brushed your teeth, and quickly changed into a t-shirt and the pair of modest shorts you’d brought to sleep in. You reminded yourself that you’d done this dozens of times - slept in the same bed as a client - and this time was no different than all those other times. 

You took a deep breath, opened the door, and stepped into the room. Steve was in bed, the blankets pulled up to the top of his head, only his blond hair visible, light snores coming from him. You eased into the bed beside him, your book in your hand. You tried to read, but you kept finding yourself staring at Steve’s broad back, wondering what it would be like to run your hands over it and feel the muscles tensing as he held himself over you.

“Oh my God, get a grip,” you chastised yourself silently. You gave up trying to read, turned out the light and closed your eyes. Maybe if you couldn’t see Steve, you wouldn’t think about things you shouldn’t be thinking about.

The next thing you knew, a bright light was shining through the window, hitting you in the face. You turned your head toward the pillow to hide your eyes, except your pillow was breathing. You opened them a fraction of an inch to see a wide expanse of muscle covered by thin blue cotton. You were sprawled over Steve, your head on his chest, arm around his waist, your legs tangled with his. His face was in your hair, you could feel his warm breath blowing the strands away from your neck, and his arm was around your shoulder, his hand resting lightly on your side just under your breast.

“Um, Steve?” you whispered.

“Hmm?”

“Are you awake?”

“Yep.” You could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “Have been for a while now.”

“Did I, uh, was this…”

“All you, sweetheart,” he chuckled. “I woke up about an hour ago and apparently sometime last night, you decided to use me as a body pillow.”

“Shit,” you mumbled, pushing yourself upright, your hands on his chest. His rock solid chest. 

_ Just a client, he’s just a client _.

"I'm so sorry," you said. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"You were sleeping so soundly, I didn't want to bother you," he shrugged.

"I don't usually...I've never done that before -"

"It's okay, doll," Steve interrupted you. "Close quarters and all." He sat up, squeezing your waist briefly before climbing out of bed and ducking into the bathroom.

You threw yourself back onto the bed, pulled the pillow over your face, and screamed. What the hell was wrong with you? This man had you all kinds of messed up. Lines were getting blurred and you were feeling things you’d never felt on the job before.

The bathroom door opened and Steve peered out. “You okay?” he asked around a mouthful of toothbrush and toothpaste.

You tossed the pillow aside and smiled at him. “I’m good,” you nodded. “Just, uh, yawning. Sorry.”

He raised an eyebrow, his head tipped to one side, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a cute little half-smile, then he disappeared back into the bathroom, though he didn’t shut the door. A few seconds later, he came out, dressed in a tank top and jeans, drying his hands on a towel. “There’s a brief meeting for staff before breakfast. You good to meet me in the dining room in an hour?”

“An hour, sure,” you replied, like an idiot.

“I’ll try to find us a secluded table in the corner or something so we can figure out how to end our marriage,” he chuckled as he grabbed an off-white cable knit sweater from his suitcase. He pulled it on, pushed a hand through his hair, patting it back into place, and waved goodbye to you over his shoulder, closing the door quietly behind himself.

You breathed a sigh of relief once he was gone. You needed some time alone to collect your thoughts and get yourself under control. You could practically feel Steve’s body beneath yours, his muscles tensing and flexing, his clean very masculine scent still in your head. You were losing your mind and not in a good way.

For the first time in a long time, you found yourself wishing you’d met Steve under different circumstances, at a different time in your life. For the first time since you’d left California to get away from Jasper, you were attracted to someone and as luck would have it, he was a client. Sometimes, life sucked and this time, it really sucked. You were going to have to push that attraction down deep and power through the weekend. You’d worry about everything else later.

You took a long hot shower, washed and dried your hair, and took your time getting ready. You put on jeans and a long sleeve shirt, with a cardigan over it, slipped on your Converse, shoved the room key and your phone in your pocket and headed for the dining room.

You slid to a stop when you spotted Steve on the other side of the room, chatting with a tall, statuesque brunette, the two of them standing impossibly close together. When he kissed her on the cheek and squeezed her arm, your gut twisted in jealousy, your heart pounding erratically. Without thinking about it, you picked up the pace, hurrying across the room. You slipped your hand into his and smiled up at him.

“Hi, honey,” you murmured.

“Hi,” he replied without missing a beat. He kissed your temple and slipped his arms around you. “Y/N, this is Maria. She’s Mr. Coulson’s assistant. She just got in this morning. Maria, this is my wife.”

“Um, wow, uh, hi,” Maria smiled, extending her hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” 

“Nice to meet you, as well,” you said, shaking her hand. “Maria? Right? Would you like to join us for breakfast?” Not that you wanted her to, but part of your job was to make Steve look good and be nice to his work colleagues.

“No, thank you. I’ll leave you two alone. But thanks for the offer.” She turned back to Steve. “We’ll talk later, Steve. I need to find Mr. Coulson.”

Once Maria was gone, you slid into one of the booths, tugging Steve in after you. “I can’t leave you alone for five minutes or the women swoop in.”

“You’re the only woman I have eyes for,” he breathed, leaning over you and catching your lips in his, kissing you until you couldn’t breathe.

“Wow,” you murmured when he finally released you. “You’re getting good at that.”

“Brock’s watching us from the buffet,” Steve whispered, so close his lips brushed against yours, his forehead resting on yours. “Gotta make it look good.”

“Right. Brock. Forgot about him.” When Steve kissed you, you forgot about a lot of things, including that this was a job and he was a client.

“I’m gonna grab us some coffee,” he said, his eyes darting over your shoulder, then back to you. His arm slid around your waist, his lips on your jaw, sliding down your chin to your neck, his teeth just nipping your pulse point before he pressed another kiss to your lips. Then he was gone.

You sighed and dropped your head to the table, your hands on your head, fingers tangled in your hair.

“I am in so much trouble.”


	4. Tension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tension is rising. Things take an interesting turn between you and Steve.

Steve hurried away from the booth, cursing himself for the thoughts coursing through his head. When he kissed her, he forgot himself, forgot that it wasn't real, that it was nothing more than a ruse meant to help him keep his job. She was just so damn easy to be around, funny, smart, beautiful, and the lines began to blur when she was near him.

He had no idea what had gotten into him; he wasn’t the kind of guy who was into any kind of public display of affection. In fact, it had been a sore spot between him and Sharon when they’d dated; he tended to be reserved, preferring to keep things private, reluctant to even hold hands or share a chaste kiss in public. He wasn’t sure if it was the fact that they were trying to convince Brock that they were really married or if it was that he was insanely attracted to Y/N. Truth be told, he had been ever since they’d met at the restaurant that first day. He hated how real it felt when he kissed her, like it was the most natural thing in the world, like he’d finally found the one he belonged with, he hated it because he knew that once this weekend was over, he’d likely never see her again.

Steve shot a glance over his shoulder, what he saw stopping him in his tracks. Brock sat across from Y/N, his hands folded on the table in front of him, smirking. Y/N was glaring at him, a pained expression on her face. He was about to go rescue her, perhaps literally, when someone grabbed his elbow.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Coulson said. “Fury wants to talk to you.”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Steve nodded. “Can you give me just one minute?”

“He said it’s important,” Phil added.

“I understand,” Steve nodded. “But, I was grabbing coffee for me and my wife and I can’t just disappear without an explanation.”

“Oh, yes, of course, my apologies,” Phil said. “We’re right over there. Why don’t you grab Mrs. Rogers and join us?” He pointed to a table on the other side of the restaurant where Fury was sitting, along with Maria and, of all people, Tony Stark.

Steve spun on his heel and hurried back to the booth, sliding in beside Y/N with an irritated huff.

“Bothering my wife, Brock?”

“Yes,” Y/N replied at the same time that Brock said “no.”

Steve slipped his arm around her waist and kissed her temple. “Come on, baby,” he murmured. “Coulson asked us to join him at Fury’s table.”

Brock’s head shot up, his eyes narrowing. “What did you say?”

“You heard me,” Steve growled, taking Y/N’s hand and tugging her out of the booth after him. "Fury invited us to sit at his table." 

He took Y/N's arm and led her away from the table, leaving Brock sitting there with his mouth hanging open. He waited until they were out of Brock's earshot before turning to her. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," she nodded. "I'm fine. He's just so infuriating. He won't stop questioning me about the two of us. Is this what he was doing to you last night?"

Steve nodded. "I can't figure out why he even gives a shit. I thought once I showed up with a wife, he'd let it go. I don't understand why he won't. The whole point of hiring you was to get him off my back, but it seems like he's worse than ever. I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize," she said. "I'll put on my happy face and pretend it didn't happen. Let's go make you look good to your boss." 

Steve stopped, his hand tightening on your elbow. "We didn't get a chance to talk about the end of our marriage." Just saying that made his stomach lurch in a way he definitely didn't like.

Y/N sighed and pushed a hand through her hair. "I'll think of something," she mumbled. "And I'll make sure whatever it is, I'm the bad guy. Wouldn't want you to look bad in front of your friends and co-workers, right?"

“You don’t have to do that,” Steve murmured.

She cupped his cheek, her thumb tracing his lower lip. “Oh, Steve, you are too sweet for words.” She kissed his cheek softly. “Come on, let’s go get breakfast with the boss.”

Steve smiled weakly, squeezed her arm and let her lead him across the restaurant.

* * *

“Alright, let’s analyze,” Natasha said. “What exactly is the problem?”

“You know the problem, Nat,” you sighed. “For the first time, ever, I am attracted to a client. Insanely attracted to him, in fact.”

“Like I said, what exactly is the problem?”

You muttered a curse under your breath. Your best friend was being intentionally contrary and it was driving you crazy. You’d been having this discussion for almost half an hour, the entire amount of time it had taken you to walk down to the beach and along the shore. Everything you said, Nat countered it with her own special brand of Romanoff logic, until you wanted to scream.

“Nat, I can’t be attracted to a client, a paying customer, it’s...it’s unprofessional.” If she was standing next to you, you’d punch her.

“Look, all I’m saying is Steve is attractive, he’s sweet, he’s funny, and he’s _ single _. Once this weekend is over, he’s not your client anymore, right? So, why couldn’t you date?”

“Because he’s not going to want to date an escort, Nat,” you retorted. “Nobody wants to date an escort.”

“You’re not going to be an escort for the rest of your life,” Nat shot back. “You’ve said as much yourself; this is temporary. Why couldn’t Steve be your last client?”

“Natasha,” you mumbled. “Let it go.”

“Fine,” she snapped. “Just do me a favor and think about it, okay? There’s nothing wrong with that, right?”

If only Nat knew how much you actually had been thinking about it. Nearly every minute of the last hour had been filled with daydreaming about how amazing an actual relationship with Steve could be. You’d kissed him goodbye at the door to the dining room after Fury had requested a private meeting with him. You’d pulled your cardigan tight around yourself and set out for the beach, hoping the fresh air would help you get your head on straight. That had been the intention when you’d called Nat; your best friend was the logical, think-through-every-scenario person in your life and you figured if anyone could talk you down from the ledge, it would be her. She’d failed you miserably.

“I gotta go, Nat,” you said. “I’ll call you later.” You disconnected the call and shoved your phone in your back pocket.

You turned around and headed back toward Ruschmeyer’s, hoping that Steve’s meeting was over and you could spend some time together.

“For the love of God,” you muttered to yourself. “I’m pathetic.”

You were almost back to the hotel when you spotted Brock headed your way. With nowhere else to go and nowhere to hide, you stared straight ahead and kept walking, head up, refusing to make eye contact with him. He stopped directly in front of you, blocking your way.

“Mrs. Rogers,” he smirked. “Fancy running into you out here.”

“Brock,” you murmured, stumbling back a couple of steps. “Can I help you?”

“Why don’t you ‘fess up and admit you’re not Steve’s wife?” He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at you.

“What makes you think I’m not his wife?” you asked, your exasperation with this line of questioning clear in your voice.

Brock pulled his phone from his pocket, opened it, and quickly scrolled through it before handing it to you. There was a screenshot of what looked like an Instagram post, people milling around a bunch of picnic tables, you and Steve front and center. You were playing the dutiful wife, holding his hand and staring adoringly up at him. Beneath the photo was a caption - _ Work get together in Montauk! _ \- and it had been posted by SHIELD_AD.

Below the screenshot was a series of text messages from someone named Jack.

_ That’s not his wife. _

_ Unless Rogers is cool being married to a _ ** _hooker_ ** _ , they ain't married _ . 

_ I think I recognize her. She looks like the dame that Suze’s brother Louis has used several times. He says she’s great, makes an awesome fake girlfriend. He calls her when his friends from college are in town with their wives. Saves him from being a third or fifth wheel. _

Your stomach rolled and your vision swam in and out of focus. You held the phone out to Brock, your arm seemingly disconnected from your body, a giant whooshing sound thundering in your ears.

“I’m not a hooker,” you whispered. “Whoever that is must be confusing me with someone else.” You tried to push past Brock. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to meet Steve.”

Brock grabbed your arm, squeezing it tightly. “It would be so much easier if you would just tell me the truth, _ Mrs. Rogers _.” His use of your fake surname dripped with venom.

You yanked your arm free, put your hands on your hips, and glared at Brock. “I am telling you the truth, Rumlow,” you snarled. “Steve and I have been married for almost a year. We are very much in love. I am not the woman your friend claims I am.” You spun around and hurried up the path, praying Brock wouldn’t follow you. You didn’t stop until you were standing in front of the hotel room door. You unlocked it and slipped inside. Once the door was closed behind you, you let loose a stream of rather colorful expletives.

This was turning out to be one of the single most infuriating jobs you’d ever been on. You dropped to the bed, your head in your hands. Maybe it would be best if you left, packed up and headed back to New York. It could be the start of the end of your marriage, you could leave some kind of note, a lame explanation, and give Steve the opportunity to work his way out of your fake marriage and out of his problem with Brock. It seemed like the logical thing to do.

You were so up in your head, your mind reeling, that you didn’t even realize you’d risen to your feet, your bag in your hand, and you were shoving your things into it until you heard Steve’s voice.

“What are you doing?”

Startled, you dropped a handful of things to the floor. “Shit,” you muttered. You sat on the end of the bed with a loud huff, bag dangling from your fingertips.

Steve fell to his knees in front of you and scooped up the things you’d dropped. “You okay?” he asked, looking up at you with those gorgeous blue eyes through those impossibly long eyelashes. “Are you leaving?”

“I-I don’t know,” you mumbled. “Maybe?”

“What happened?” he asked.

“I had another run-in with Brock,” you sighed. “I think he knows someone who knows I’m an escort.”

“What?” Steve growled.

You quickly explained what had happened with Brock, the picture, the message, everything, and your concern that the story the two of you had concocted was rapidly falling apart.

“I thought maybe if I left, you could come up with something, make it look like we got in a fight or something. Maybe we could get out of this without Brock finding out we’re not married.”

Steve shook his head. “Or Brock figures out we’ve been lying all along.” He inched closer, put his hand on your arm, and smiled sweetly. “I say we play it out, keep up the angle that Brock’s friend is mistaken. Maybe we can make Brock look bad.” He gently squeezed your arm.

“Ouch,” you winched. Your hand went to the spot Steve had squeezed, the same spot that Brock had grabbed. You shrugged out of your cardigan so you could look at your arm. There was a deep reddish-purple mark on your upper arm in the shape of a hand.

Steve stared at you, concern written all over his face. “Is that where Brock grabbed you?” he murmured.

“Yeah, I think so,” you nodded. “It all happened so fast.”

Steve’s fingers danced over the mark. “I’m gonna kick his ass.”

You put your hand over his and shook your head. “No, I’m fine.”

“He hurt you-”

“I’ve had worse,” you said. “Really, I’m okay.”

Silence fell over the two of you and the air was thick with tension as you stared at each other. You licked your lips and resisted the overwhelming urge to lean over and kiss Steve. You cleared your throat and cupped his cheek in your hand.

“How are you so amazing, Steve Rogers, and still single?” you whispered.

“Bad luck,” he shrugged, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Guess I haven’t been lucky enough to find the right woman.”

“I envy her, whoever she is,” you sighed, your hand falling from his face. “I hope you find her soon.”

Steve put his hand on the bed next to your leg, his other arm sliding around your waist. He leaned over you, his lips just barely brushing yours. “Maybe I already found her and I don’t even know it.”

“Steve -”

“Don’t talk,” he murmured. “Just...just don’t talk.”

His mouth slanted over yours, both of his arms sliding around you, pulling you tight against his body. You closed your eyes and let him kiss you, a real kiss, a kiss just between the two of you with no prying eyes, no judgment, no part to play, only you and Steve.

It was the single best kiss you’d ever had.

When the kiss ended, reluctantly, neither of you moved. Steve’s forehead rested against yours, his hands gently kneading your back muscles, his breath warm against your skin.

“Maybe I already found her and _ she _ doesn’t even know it,” he whispered.


	5. Scavenger Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Steve have to go on a scavenger hunt.

The tension was so thick he could have cut it with a knife. He closed his eyes and exhaled. He’d screwed up and he knew it. But he hadn’t been able to resist the chance to kiss her when there wasn’t anyone around, when he could throw all the pretenses out the window and kiss her like he’d wanted to kiss her for two days - like she belonged to him and no one else.

“I’m not the girl for you, Steve,” she whispered. “It’s normal for you to think you have feelings for me; it happens to a lot of clients. But none of this is real. It’s just the craziness of this entire weekend manifesting itself in a rush of emotions. Trust me, I know.”

Steve released her and sat back on his haunches, his hands sliding down her sides and resting on the top of his thighs. She was wrong. He didn’t know how he knew that, but he did. He knew he was right, he felt it in his bones. She could deny it all day, but his gut told him that his growing feelings for her were real and he suspected that she might have feelings for him as well. He’d just have to wait until she figured it out on her own.

He pushed himself to his feet with a heavy sigh. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, shifting from foot to foot. “There’s a group activity in about half an hour. I’ll meet you out back.” He opened the door and was about to close it behind himself when Y/N spoke.

“Steve, wait.”

She was on her feet, her hands clasped in front of her, twisting nervously. “I, uh, I’m sorry.”

He put his hand up and shook his head, cutting off her apology. He didn’t want to hear her excuses or her more than logical reasoning as to why a relationship between them would never work. That would be akin to digging the knife in deeper and twisting it around.

Y/N cleared her throat. “Um, how did your meeting with Fury and Coulson go? Everything okay?”

“They offered me a promotion.” Before she could say anything else, he shut the door and hurried down the hall. He needed a drink, especially if he was going to make it through the rest of the weekend.

* * *

The second the door clicked closed, you fell back onto the bed. You resisted the urge to scream at the top of your lungs. Not only had Steve admitted to having feelings for you and you’d brushed him off, but he’d withheld mentioning that he’d been offered a promotion. You were so caught up in your out of control feelings that you hadn’t even congratulated him. What the hell was wrong with you?

You hadn’t been lying when you’d told Steve that clients often thought they had feelings for you. It had happened more than once. Hazards of the job. But not once had you caught any kind of feelings. Of course, you’d never “dated” anyone like Steve. The men who usually hired you were the “live in their mom’s basement” type, nerdy, socially awkward and not one of them looked like Steve.

You were in uncharted territory and you didn’t know what to do. You desperately wanted to tell him that you had feelings for him, but at the same time, you were afraid that his feelings weren’t real, that it was just another crush, just like the other clients. You weren’t sure you could handle it when the truth hit and the rejection came along. Or worse, if it turned out to be a similar situation to your relationship with Jasper.

“This is crazy,” you murmured to yourself.

Your phone rang, forcing you out of your self-examination. You pulled it out of your pocket and answered it without looking at it. You knew who it was without looking anyway.

“Hello,” you mumbled.

“Did you tell him?” Natasha asked.

“Tell who what?” you asked, willfully playing dumb.

“You’re infuriating,” your friend grumbled. “You didn’t, did you?”

“No,” you sighed.

“Why not?”

You stared at the ceiling, searching for the right answer. You certainly weren’t going to find it on the whitewashed ceiling. You blew out an exasperated breath.

“I don’t know,” you finally said, opting to give her the easy answer. “I guess...what if it’s like the other times when my clients thought they were falling for me but it’s not anything more than a crush? Do you know how that would make me feel, Nat?”

“But -,” she said.

“No buts, Natasha,” you muttered.

“What are you afraid of?” Nat asked. “Forget that he’s a client for a minute and tell me why you’re scared?”

You closed your eyes, groaning inwardly. Nat knew you too well and she knew you weren’t being honest with her or with yourself.

“Fine. You want to know why I’m scared, Nat? What if it turns out to be just like Jasper?”

Jasper Sitwell was your ex-fiancé. You’d met, starting dating, fallen in love, and gotten engaged in less than three months. It had been a whirlwind romance. Jasper was the son of one of Hollywood’s most powerful producers, a man with money and connections. And despite how quickly things had progressed between you, you were convinced you’d found the man you were going to be with for the rest of your life.

Six weeks before the wedding, your sister’s boyfriend saw Jasper leave a high-end strip club with a stripper hanging all over him. When you confronted your fiancé, he confessed that he’d been seeing this woman for several weeks, but it ‘meant nothing’ and was really ‘just about the sex’. Brokenhearted, you’d ended the engagement.

Jasper had begged you to come back, repeatedly, hounding you almost constantly until out of sheer frustration you’d threatened to get a restraining order. The next day, out of nowhere and with no explanation, you’d been fired from your job as a makeup artist on an up and coming television series. After that, no one would hire you, absolutely no one. You’d been blackballed.

Desperate to get away from Jasper and start fresh, you’d packed up and moved across the country. With no job and no prospects, you’d taken a job as a companion for hire until you could get on your feet. The money was phenomenal and the company you worked for was top of the line. You only had about six months left before you had enough money to pay cash for a house and a car, then you could quit and try to find work as a makeup artist. You could only hope Jasper’s father’s reach didn’t stretch as far as New York state.

“Y/N? Did you hear me?” Nat asked, interrupting your thoughts. “Steve isn’t Jasper. Steve’s a good guy.”

“I thought Jasper was a good guy and look how that turned out,” you reminded your friend. “Things with Steve are moving too fast, just like they did with Jasper.”

Nat sighed loudly. “Do me a favor and talk to him, okay? Please?”

“I promise to think about it,” you said. “That’s all I can do.” You checked the clock on the wall. “I have to go. I’m meeting Steve soon. I’ll call you later.”

“Talk to Steve!” you heard her yell as you disconnected the call.

If only it were as easy as it sounded.

******************

Steve wasn’t normally a day drinker, but with his head spinning and his heart in turmoil, he needed something to calm himself down. He sat at the bar for almost half an hour, downed at least three shots of whiskey, and ordered a beer before heading outside to join his colleagues. He was feeling pleasantly buzzed when he stepped out the door. 

Oddly enough, Brock was nowhere to be seen. Maria gestured for him to join her, which he did, smiling warily at Coulson’s administrative assistant. For some reason, she’d been inexplicably flirty with him the last couple of days, when previously she’d barely spoken to him. He wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“Steve!” She smiled widely and looped her arm through his. “How are you? Where’s your wife hiding out? I haven’t seen her since breakfast.”

“She was resting in our room,” he explained. “She’ll be down soon.” He took another swallow of the beer in his hand, his eyes darting to the back entrance of the hotel.

“Everything okay?” Maria cooed, rubbing his arm. “You seem on edge.”

“I’m fine,” he insisted.

“What did your wife think of your promotion?” Maria asked.

He opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, he felt a hand in the center of his back.

“_ She _ thinks it’s wonderful,” Y/N said. She kissed his cheek then turned to Maria. “Ms. Hill, how are you?”

“I’m doing well, thank you,” Maria replied coldly. “You?”

“Fabulous,” she replied. “Funny, I keep finding you hanging off of my husband. If I was the jealous type, I might be worried.”

“Nothing to worry about, Mrs. Rogers,” Maria laughed nervously. “Your husband is pretty smitten with you.”

“And I with him,” Y/N murmured, her hand slipping into his and squeezing tightly.

“I’m going to find Mr. Coulson,” Maria said. “I think we need to get this party started.” She nodded at both of them before wandering off.

“I’m sorry about earlier, Steve,” Y/N said. “I didn’t even respond when you said you got a promotion. I’m a terrible wife.”

“It’s okay,” he shrugged. It surprised him that she even acknowledged it. “I’ll survive the snub. Can I get you a drink?”

“I’d love a margarita,” she said. “If you don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” Steve grinned. He brushed a kiss across her lips and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I’ll be right back.”

He kissed her again before heading back inside to the bar. He could become addicted to kissing her. He ordered a margarita for Y/N and decided to get another scotch for himself. He needed it. By the time he got back outside, the group had gathered around the far set of tables and was listening to Fury.

“- scavenger hunt,” Fury said as Steve walked up. “Pair up and grab the list. You’ve got one hour.”

“Steve!” Y/N stood at the end of one of the picnic tables, waving a piece of paper at him. He hurried to her side, her drink in his outstretched hand.

“Did I hear ‘scavenger hunt’?” he asked.

“You did,” she grinned, showing him the list of items in her hand. “I vote we start on the beach.”

“Lead the way,” he said.

She grabbed his hand and led him down the path to the beach. They stopped at the edge of the water to read the list. “Shells, of course,” she murmured. “How very predictable.”

Steve elbowed her. “Be nice,” he chuckled. “How many shells do we have to find?”

“At least ten,” she replied. “Of varying colors.”

They spent the next few minutes searching the beach, kicking at the sand at the edge of the water. It took them about fifteen minutes to find ten shells. Steve shoved them in his jacket pocket and took the list from Y/N.

“Okay, up next. Take a picture of the sign at the top of the rocks at the north end of the beach.” He pointed to an outcropping of rocks on the beach. “Come on, let’s go.”

It only took them a couple of minutes to reach the rocks. Steve could see the sign at the top, it looked like it had the name of the beach on it.

“Why don’t I climb up there and take the picture?” Y/N said. “Give me a boost.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to get hurt. We could walk around and take the path up there.”

“I’ll be fine. Besides, that will take too long,” she said. “C’mon, give me a boost.”

Steve held out his hands and Y/N stepped into them. He lifted her up, watching as she grabbed one of the rocks and pulled herself up. She quickly climbed the rocks and using her phone, snapped a photo of the sign. She tucked the phone back in her pocket and turned back to Steve.

“Coming down,” she said. 

She took two tiny steps, Steve watching her closely. She dropped to her knees and turned around, reaching behind her for someplace to put her hand. The next thing Steve knew, she squealed and then she was sliding down the rocks, scrambling for something to grab, something to stop her fall.

“Shit,” Steve muttered, instinctively stepping closer and holding out his arms. He had no idea if it would do any good, but it didn’t matter because all he could see was her falling.

She landed on him, both of them falling to the ground with a grunt, Steve’s head bouncing off the ground and knocking against Y/N’s.

“Ow,” she moaned, sliding off of him and to her back, her hand on her forehead.

Steve rolled over, hovering over her, his hands on either side of her shoulders, eyes roving over her, checking for injuries.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Well, my head hurts,” she mumbled. “And my hands are scraped up. Otherwise, I think I’m good.”

Steve sat up, pulling her with him. He took her hands, turning them over and examining them closely.

“These cuts need to be cleaned,” he said. He stood up, pulling her with him. “Let’s go back to the hotel, take care of these. The scavenger hunt can wait.”

Back in the room, Steve led Y/N to the bathroom, turned on the water, and grabbed the soap. He gently washed her hands, careful not to hurt her. Once he finished with her hands, he dragged her into the other room and had her sit on the bed so he could examine her head. He kneeled in front of her, holding her hand as he checked the small bump on her forehead that was rapidly turning purple. He brushed his thumb over it, pulling away when she winced.

“Hurts,” she murmured.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “Do you want some ice?”

She shook her head. “I’ll be okay.” She cleared her throat, her fingers twisting in her lap. “You’re a good man, Steve Rogers.”

“I am?”

“Yeah, the best,” she nodded. “Which is what scares me. Maybe...maybe you’re too good to be true.”

“Maybe I am,” he agreed. “But, maybe I’m not. If you don’t give me a chance, you’ll never know for sure.”

“Looks like we’re right back where we started,” she sighed.

“So, what are we gonna do about it?”

She grabbed the front of the jacket he was still wearing and dragged him closer, so close her lips brushed his as she spoke. “You could kiss me again.”

“I could,” he smirked. “Is that what you want?”

She nodded and then they were kissing, a slightly desperate, needy kiss that shifted everything between them. Steve wrapped his arms around her and pushed her back onto the bed, drowning in the sensation of having her beneath him, of kissing her, tasting her. She was making little gasping noises in the back of her throat, the sound driving him wild with need, though he could hardly hear her over the roar of blood in his ears when his lips traveled to her neck, his cock jumping she moaned his name almost obscenely.

He wanted to hear more.

* * *

You wrapped your hands around the back of his neck, your fingers in his hair, holding him to you as the kiss deepened. He rolled to his side, his arms still around you, pulling you with him, one hand sliding up your back and into your hair, twisting the strands around his fingers.

You got lost in each other, the feel, the sensations, the kiss, the _ everything _. You pushed Steve to his back, tugging at his sweater until he yanked it off. Your hands slid under his t-shirt, cold against his hot skin. Steve drew your leg over his hip, fingers squeezing the soft flesh of your thigh and ass, pulling you tight against him. He swallowed your moans as your bodies rocked together. 

You tugged on his hair as he sealed his lips over your pulse point and sucked, leg tightening around his waist, the breath tearing in and out of you. Every atom inside of you was pulsing and buzzing with an intense need you had never felt before. 

Steve’s hand traveled under your shirt, strong fingers dragging over your ribs and belly, leaving a trail of goosebumps. You shuddered against him, a huffing giggle bursting out of you.

“Tickles,” you rasped. 

He smiled against your ear. “Maybe I shouldn’t be so gentle.”

Lust, raw and primal, skittered down your spine at the weight of his words. “Maybe you shouldn’t be.”

Steve growled and flipped you to your back, his weight settling over you, pushing you into the mattress. One hand slid up your body, skimming your breast before settling around your throat and squeezing just a little as his mouth covered yours. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him into you, your body alight with need and desire.

“Jesus, doll, you’re killing me,” Steve murmured.

“I could say the same for you,” you whispered.

Steve was just about to kiss you again when there was a knock on the door. For a second, you thought he might ignore it, but then it came again, louder, more insistent. With an irritated huff, he pushed himself off the bed and yanked open the door.

“Hey!” You heard Maria say. “You guys disappeared. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Steve mumbled.

“Well, Fury’s looking for you,” Maria said.

“We’ll be right down,” Steve said.

“I can wait -”

“Thanks, Maria,” he muttered, shutting the door in her face. He turned back to you with a sheepish grin. “Guess we better go.”

You pushed yourself to your knees and gestured for Steve to come closer. He stepped right into your personal space, still grinning, his hand on your waist.

“Yeah?”

“Raincheck?” you murmured.

“Raincheck,” he nodded.


	6. Talk It Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Steve do your best to make it through the rest of the day’s activities.

You thought that things might be awkward between you and Steve, but surprisingly, they didn’t seem to be. You cuddled up against his side, your hand in his, as the two of you made your way back outside to join the rest of the group. You begged off the remainder of the scavenger hunt, citing your injury as the reason why, before going inside to the lounge. Steve went in search of Fury, while you found an empty loveseat near the fire. 

It wasn’t long before Steve returned, followed by Fury. He sat beside you, his hand on your leg, while Fury sat across from the two of you. He leaned forward, his elbows propped on his knees, a somewhat friendly smile on his face.

“Mrs. Rogers,” Fury nodded your direction. “I assume your husband told you about his promotion?”

You glanced at Steve and smiled nervously. “Only that you were planning on promoting him, no details.”

“Well, I didn’t give him a lot of details,” Fury chuckled. “Since I have both of you here, I can give both of you those details. We just got a big government contract and we need someone to lead the team, someone who is innovative and forward-thinking. That someone is Steve.”

“Wow, Mr. Fury -” Steve sputtered.

“Call me, Nick, son,” Steve’s boss laughed. “I think you’ve earned it.”

They spent the next hour discussing Steve’s new job and his new responsibilities. By the time Nick excused himself and left you alone, your head was spinning; you couldn’t imagine what Steve was feeling. He put his head in his hands and exhaled loudly.

You rested your hand in the middle of his back, rubbing gentle circles. He turned abruptly, wrapped his arms around you, and crushed you to his chest.

“Congratulations,” you murmured. “I’m so proud of you.”

Steve brushed a kiss across your lips. “Thank you,” he murmured. “I still can’t believe it. I thought for sure that job was going to Brock.”

“You deserve it,” you grinned.

“Deserve what?” Brock snarled from behind them.

Just the sound of his voice made your skin crawl. You moved closer to Steve, his arm around your waist tightening noticeably. You cleared your throat, watching Brock as he circled the couch and stood in front of you, arms crossed over his chest.

“Steve got a promotion,” you said.

“What?” Brock snapped.

“I got the lead engineer position on the new government contract,” Steve explained. “Fury just told me. Us.”

Brock’s face turned red and with a huff, he spun on his heel and stalked across the room, anger coloring his every move.

“That went well,” you sighed.

“He better be careful. If he yells at Fury over this, he’ll lose his job,” Steve muttered. “On second thought, I hope he’s not careful. I hope he yells at Fury.”

You giggled, your face buried against Steve’s chest. “You’re so bad.”

Steve tangled his fingers in your hair and tipped your head back, his mouth slanting over yours, the kiss taking your breath away.

“We should celebrate my promotion,” he whispered.

“Yeah?” you murmured. “What do you want to do?”

“How about we cash in that rain check? We could go back to the room…”

Steve froze mid-sentence when raised voices drifted in from outside, where the rest of the company was gathering for lunch. 

“No way,” Steve mumbled, pulling you to your feet. “There’s no way he’s yelling at Fury. He might hate me, but not enough to lose his job over it.”

You and Steve hurried outside to see what all the commotion was about. Sure enough, Brock stood in front of Fury, voice raised, shouting something about a lack of support for dedicated employees, refusal to promote those people who’d been with the company for years, and a lot of other stuff you barely caught. His face was red, his fists clenched at his side, spittle flying from his lips. Nick stood in front of him, arms crossed, face blank, not even flinching at the tirade.

Once Brock started to wind down, Fury stepped close to him, took his elbow, and whispered something in his ear. Brock wrenched his arm free, mumbled something that sounded vaguely like ‘fuck you’ and pushed through the crowd that had gathered, headed for the path leading down to the beach. When he caught sight of you and Steve, he stopped, a snarl on his lips.

“This isn’t over Rogers,” he growled. “That promotion should have been mine. I know you’re hiding something, and I know it has to do with your  _ wife _ . I will find out what it is and I will take it to Fury. Trust me.”

“What is his deal?” you mumbled once he shouldered past Steve and disappeared down the path. “Why does he hate you so much?”

“I have no idea,” Steve sighed. “I always thought it was because I wouldn’t date his sister, or maybe because Coulson seemed to like me. Other than that, I couldn’t tell you.”

“Steve!”

Coulson appeared at his side. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Steve said. “That was...awkward, to say the least.”

“Rumlow is having a hard time accepting that the promotion went to you. He’s been vying for it for weeks.” Coulson shook his head. “Fury didn’t like his attitude. And for good reason. You are clearly the better choice.” He cleared his throat and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Why don’t you come and have lunch with Ms. Hill and me? We can celebrate your promotion and discuss tonight’s festivities.”

“Of course,” Steve nodded. He squeezed your hand and smiled down at you. “As long as Mrs. Rogers is okay with it.”

“I’d love to,” you agreed, though you’d rather be celebrating with Steve, alone, just the two of you. That would have to wait. You put a smile on your face and followed Steve.

* * *

One hour of eating lunch and playing nice. Another three hours in group activities meant to strengthen their bond as a company. Spouses and significant others were sent off to shop or rest or whatever they wanted to do.

Steve had given Y/N some money, kissed her on the cheek, and jokingly told her to “buy herself something pretty”. She’d punched him in the arm and promised to do just that. Another kiss, this one longer, lingering, her hand in the middle of his chest clutching his shirt, her breath catching in her throat when Steve’s tongue darted out and licked at her lips.

He could barely pay attention to what was going on in the group activities; his mind was on Y/N. His every thought was consumed with her. He’d never felt a connection like he felt with her, never fallen so hard for someone so fast. It scared him a little.

Once they wrapped up the group activities, Steve slipped away from the group, pulled his phone from his pocket, and dialed Bucky. He trusted his best friend to help him figure out what to do.

“Dude, I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me,” Bucky whined when he finally answered. “I sent you like a dozen texts.”

“I know,” Steve sighed. “I’ve been busy.” He gave Bucky a quick rundown of how the weekend was going, including everything that had happened with Y/N.

“Whoa,” Bucky mumbled when Steve finished. “That’s...that’s crazy. So, what happens after this weekend? Are you two gonna date? What?”

“That’s just it, Buck. I don’t know. We haven’t really talked about...well...anything. There’s this insane chemistry between us, this need for each other that can’t be fulfilled. I don’t know if it will last or if it’s just this fucked up crazy weekend.”

“You have to talk to her, find out what, if anything, will happen once this weekend is over. I thought you were going to have some big fight, end your fake marriage? Instead, it sounds like you’re falling for this woman and falling hard.”

“Jesus, Buck, you’re a goddamn mind-reader,” Steve chuckled. “Yeah, I’m definitely falling for her.”

“Then talk to her, Steve. Make sure it’s going to last beyond tomorrow at midnight.”

“You make me sound like Cinderella,” he grumbled.

“Well, then, consider me your bossy fairy godmother,” Bucky laughed. “Call me later, let me know how it goes.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Steve disconnected the call, cutting off Bucky’s laughter. As annoyed as he was with his friend, Bucky was right. He needed to talk to Y/N and find out if there was a chance at a future for the two of them.

He tucked his phone back in his pocket and checked his watch. He had less than an hour to get ready for the semi-formal dinner party and dance that was set to wrap up the evening, so he stepped up the pace, hurrying through the halls to his room. He could hear music playing as he approached the door, light jazz, one of his favorites.

“Jesus, could she be any more perfect for me?” he mumbled to himself.

He rested his hand on the doorknob, the key in his hand, and took a deep breath. He pushed open the door and stepped inside.

A red dress was laid across the bed, a pair of matching shoes on the floor. Steve didn’t even want to imagine what she might look like in it; the thought might kill him. The music came from the radio on the table. It was turned up louder than he’d expected and Y/N was in the bathroom, humming along. He cleared his throat, loudly.

Y/N popped her head out the door. “Hi,” she smiled.

“H-hi,” Steve stuttered. He closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe. It wasn’t easy, not with Y/N standing in front of him in a pair of little shorts and a tank top, the clothes hugging her curves. “I...uh, I like your dress.”

“Thanks. It’s the ‘something pretty’ you told me to buy,” she laughed. 

“I can’t wait to see you in it,” he murmured.

“I’m done in here,” she said, stepping out of the bathroom. “If you need to shower or something.”

“Yeah, uh, shower, sure.”

“Steve, are you okay?” she asked.

“Um, yeah, I’m fine.” He turned his back and busied himself taking his things from his suitcase and the closet. Once he had everything in hand, he brushed past Y/N and hurried into the bathroom, closing the door behind himself and leaning against it.

He had no idea what was wrong with him, why he was acting like an idiot. He should just walk out there and tell her how he felt and that he wanted to keep seeing her when this stupid weekend was over.

Instead, he finished getting ready. It took him less than an hour to shower, shave, and put on his suit, the nicest one he owned. Every now and then, Y/N’s voice drifted through the closed bathroom door, sometimes asking him a question, or maybe singing along to the song on the radio, even muttering to herself a few times.

When he finally opened the bathroom door, ready to go, Y/N was just slipping into her red high heels. Steve’s heart jumped into his throat when he saw her. He didn’t let himself think about it, he strode purposefully into the room and took her by the hand, pulling her into his arms.

“You look stunning.”

“Thank you,” she murmured. “You look pretty damn good yourself.”

Steve ducked his head and caught her lips in his, just a brush of his lips over hers. She seemed to melt into him, her body flush against his. He tucked her hair behind her ear, his forehead resting against hers.

“I want to talk to you,” he whispered. “About us, about what happens when this weekend is over.”

She swallowed noticeably, her grip tightening on his suit jacket. “What do you want to happen?” she asked, fear in her voice.

“I don’t want it - us - to be over. I know you think we’re moving too fast, that I’m too good to be true, but maybe we’re not, maybe I’m not. I want to give us a chance.”

She shook her head. “Steve -” 

“Don’t say anything yet, don’t make any decisions right now.” He pressed a kiss to her lips. “Think about it for the next couple of hours. Forget that you’re working for me, that you’re pretending to be my wife. Go downstairs with me and have fun. No illusions, no pretending, just two people enjoying themselves. Okay?”

“Okay,” she nodded.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

* * *

You did as Steve asked, doing your best to forget that you worked for him. While you still had to pretend that you were his wife, it wasn’t hard to enjoy yourself. Steve was easy to get along with, easy to be around, and you found that you were really enjoying yourself for the first time since you’d broken up with Jasper. You drank and laughed, you even danced, not only with Steve but also with some of his co-workers including Coulson and even once with Fury.

You enjoyed yourself so much that you had no idea how much time had passed, not until Steve plucked you out of the arms of one of his co-workers, Peter Quill, a fellow engineer, and led you to one of the seats lining the wall. You winced and kicked off your shoes.

“I’ve barely had a chance to dance with you,” Steve chuckled. “Are you having fun?”

“I am,” you smiled. “What time is it?”

“Almost midnight,” he replied. “You’ve been dancing the night away.”

“Yeah, well, I’m paying for it. My feet are killing me.”

Steve’s hand slid down your bare leg, took hold of your ankle and pulled your foot into his lap. He pressed his thumb into your instep, rubbing gentle but firm circles.

“Mm, that feels good,” you sighed. You rested your head against the back of the chair, bit your lip, and held back a groan.

“Why don’t we call it a night?” Steve murmured. “We could go back to our room and...talk.”

You opened your eyes, a giggle sneaking past your lips. “Is that what you want to do? Talk?”

Steve laughed and shook his head. “Among other things. I believe I have a raincheck to collect on? And we have some things to discuss.”

“Well, then we should go.”

Steve picked up your shoes and took your hand. You followed him through the thinning crowd, murmuring your goodbyes to his co-workers and friends. Your heart fluttered in your chest and your hands were shaking, your head spinning at the implication of what you were about to do.

Once you were in the room, Steve slipped off his jacket and tie, the top two buttons of his dress shirt undone. He sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at you.

“Well?”

You pushed a hand through your hair and took a deep breath. The truth was, your mind had been made up almost immediately, you hadn’t needed a chance to think about it. Your hesitation had come from being overeager, desperate to claim Steve as yours, really yours. You leaned over him, cupped his face in your hands, tipping his head back so you could look into those crystal blue eyes of his, and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I don’t know what this is, I don’t understand why I feel like this about you, but I don’t want it to be over, either. Let’s give it a shot, you and me. Damn the doubts, damn Rumlow, and damn my stupid job. We’ll make it work.

Steve’s hands snaked around your waist, his fingers rubbing gently over your soft skin. “Really?” he whispered. “Are you sure?”

Your answer was to reach back and unzip your dress, letting it fall to the floor and pool at your feet. You stood in front of Steve, wearing nothing but a bra and panties, something that had never happened before. You felt vulnerable and embarrassed, crazy, irrational, and out of your mind, but you knew you wanted this.

Steve rose to his feet, pulled you into his arms and kissed you. He ran his warm hands up and down your body, his touch like fire against your cold skin. He broke away just long enough to quickly unbutton his shirt and push off pants, then you were back in his arms and he was laying you on the bed, his lips at your throat as he stretched out beside you.

His hands slid over your body, settling on your breast, kneading and massaging it, his thumb rubbing gently over the nipple. He continued kissing and sucking at your throat, eventually moving to your shoulders, then his mouth replaced his hand, sucking the nipple between his lips. His hand traced slow, lazy circles down your stomach and over your hip until he was sliding it between your legs. Steve was patient, moving slowly, taking his time exploring your body. You sighed and closed your eyes, letting the feelings of Steve’s hands touching you take over your senses.

He caressed you with one finger, slowly separating your lips, smoothly prodding at your entrance until his finger slipped inside, just to the knuckle, pumping in and out. You could barely concentrate on what he was doing with his fingers, when his mouth was devouring you, moving over every inch of your neck and chest, licking, nipping, and kissing you, sliding down your body until his mouth was right over your pussy. When his tongue flicked over your clit, you moaned, your hands sliding into his hair. Goosebumps broke out all over your skin as he worked you over.

When Steve sucked your clit into his mouth, you moaned, unable to hold back. He suckled at the sensitive nub of nerves as he thrust another finger into you, burying them deep inside you. You rocked your hips against his hand, all of your inhibitions gone. All you knew was that you didn’t ever want Steve to stop what he was doing. You moved, grinding down on his fingers, holding his head against your pussy, crying out with pleasure. You felt him groan, the vibration moving through you and then you were coming, your vision going white, every nerve ending on fire.

You collapsed against the bed, spent, overwhelmed with pleasure. But Steve didn’t stop, his fingers still inside you. You tried to catch your breath, but you weren’t sure you could, not with Steve continuing to touch you. He finally pulled away, a wicked grin on his face. He kissed a trail from your stomach to your mouth, before he sat up and climbed off the bed.

You watched him as he took a condom from his suitcase and removed his boxers, then he kneeled between your legs, lifting your hips, and pulling your legs around his waist. He guided himself to your soaking wet entrance and then he was sliding inside of you, filling you, taking you as his.

“God, Y/N, you feel so good,” Steve rasped, thrusting into you. He slid his hands under you, guiding you, encouraging you to move with him.

His hand gripped your thigh tight as he moved, filling you completely. Your hips snapped up to meet his as he slammed into you, your hands around his neck, pulling him back down to your mouth.

Steve set a near manic pace, driving into you, hard and erratic, burying himself in you as deep as possible. You met him thrust for thrust, clawing at him, holding him tight against you, every move pushing you back toward that precipice you were so ready to fall off again.

Steve’s hands fisted in your hair, holding your head as he returned your kisses. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him to move faster, pulling him into you. You hit your peak and then you were falling, another orgasm taking you over. Several hard thrusts later, Steve was right behind you, his body tensing, grunting as he came. He kissed you, gently biting at your lower lip, licking over it to ease the slight hint of pain.

Steve collapsed, lying sprawled half on you, half on the bed. He slid his hand down your arm, taking your hand in his. He put it to his mouth and kissed the back of it.

You ran your fingers through his hair, basking in the pleasure still pulsing through your body. “Wow,” you murmured. “That was crazy good.”

Steve propped himself on his elbows and grinned at you. “Crazy good,” he laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Oh, it definitely was,” you giggled. “That was fantastic.”

Steve kissed you, a sweet, lingering kiss that made your body sing with need. You wrapped your legs around him, sighing as his weight settled over you and the kiss deepened. You could stay in bed with him all day. Maybe even forever.

“We’re really gonna do this, aren’t we?” you murmured when you broke apart.

“Yeah, we are,” he said. “I’m all in, if you are.”

“All in,” you nodded.


	7. All Good Things Must Come to an End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything comes to a head the morning after you and Steve have sex.

You were floating on a high you hadn’t thought it possible to achieve. The two of you had been up all night, talking, making love, and talking some more. It had been one of the most amazing nights of your life. You were planning on dating for real; you were going to quit your job as a companion and try to find a job working as a makeup artist; and the two of you were going to figure out how to get around the whole “not really married” thing.

You barely made it out of the hotel room to go down to breakfast, not with Steve pressing you into the mattress, his mouth slanted over yours, kissing you breathless. The two of you probably would have skipped breakfast to stay in the room if Steve’s phone hadn’t started vibrating incessantly every few seconds.

“Damn it,” he grumbled, rolling off of you and digging his phone out of his pocket. He opened it, mumbling under his breath as he read through the text messages. When he was done, he closed his eyes, his cell phone resting on his forehead. “All right, let’s go to breakfast before Coulson or Hill has a coronary. The sooner we go down to breakfast, the sooner we can get out of here.” He climbed to his feet and held his hand out to you. “Come on, gorgeous.”

You smiled, took his hand, and let him drag you to your feet. You gave him a lingering kiss before spinning around and yanking open the door. “Let’s go.”

Steve groaned, but he followed you out the door, his hand wrapped tightly around yours. You were getting used to Steve touching you - holding your hand, his hand in the middle of your back, his arm around your waist. He couldn’t seem to keep his hands off of you and you loved it.

After saying hello to Coulson and Fury, the two of you found a table in a secluded corner, away from everyone, both of you shoved into one side of the booth, his hand on your leg, your body pressed tight against his side.

“Okay, look, don’t freak out, but I know somebody…”

You narrowed your eyes and glared at Steve playfully. “What do you mean, ‘don’t freak out’?”

“I have a friend, her name is Wanda, and she owns a costume design company. I was thinking about talking to her, maybe see if she could help you with some work? She has a lot of connections in the film and stage industry in New York. If you’re okay with that?”

“Really?” you gasped. “You’d do that for me?”

“Of course. I’d do anything for my wife,” Steve chuckled. “Wanda is awesome. I’m sure she’ll be able to help you.”

You kissed Steve on the cheek. “You are the best husband ever,” you murmured.

“Too bad he’s not really your husband.”

Brock Rumlow dropped into the seat across from you, along with a guy who stared directly at you, his eyes boring into you. Your stomach dropped and your hands started to sweat.

“Jesus, Rumlow, not this again,” Steve muttered. “Give it a rest.”

Rumlow ignored him and focused on you. “Mrs. Rogers,” he snarled. “I believe you know Louis? He’s my buddy Jack’s brother-in-law. He’s used your services in the past.”

You nodded, unable to speak with your heart in your throat. Louis had indeed used your services in the past, though it had been a long time. 

You swallowed around the lump in your throat. "What do you want, Brock?" you whispered.

"I want him," he pointed at Steve, "to admit the truth. I want him to tell everyone you are not his wife, that he's been lying."

"Not happening," Steve growled.

"Fine." Rumlow rose to his feet and loudly cleared his throat. "Can I have your attention, please?"

"Don't do this, Brock," you pleaded. "Please?"

He shot you a dirty look, took two steps away from the table, and held up his hands. The room went dead silent as everyone turned to look at him. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Fury and Coulson rise to the feet.

"I'm sorry to interrupt everyone's breakfast, but I have an announcement to make!" Rumlow shouted. "But, I believe this is something you all need to know about our new team leader, Steve Rogers. The woman he has been claiming is his wife is really a hooker!"

Steve launched himself from the booth, coming to a stop inches from Brock, his fists clenched, breath tearing in and out of his throat, his anger a living, breathing entity. Rumlow put a hand in the center of Steve’s chest and shoved as hard as he could, sending him stumbling backward. 

You leapt to your feet and stepped between them, unwilling to let Steve fight for the tiny bit of dignity you had left. You held your hands up, screaming at them to stop. Steve took a step closer, his ice blue eyes flashing in anger.

“Steve, please,” you begged. “I’m not worth it.”

“That’s right, Rogers, listen to your little whore. She’s right. She’s not worth it.”

Steve stepped around you, shouldering you out of the way, sending you crashing to the floor at the same time that his fist connected with Brock’s nose. There was a loud crunch and then Brock yelled, the sound muffled by his hands pressed to his face. Blood dripped from his fingers to the floor.

Louis tucked a hand under your elbow, dragged you to your feet, and quickly ushered you out the door. You protested, tried to pull away from him, calling Steve’s name, but in the insanity that had erupted, he didn’t or couldn’t hear you. Louis released you once you were outside and you quickly stepped away from him, backing up until your ass hit one of the picnic tables.

Louis put his hands up and tried to smile, though it was more of a grimace. “Look, Y/N, I’m sorry about all of this. I had no idea all of this was going to happen. Jack asked me to come up here, said Brock offered to give me a couple of hundred bucks if I’d come up here and confirm that you were the woman I hired to go out on a few dates with me. I swear I didn’t know…”

“You ruined everything, Louis,” you hissed, tears leaking out. “Everything.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry -”

“Save it,” you snapped. You swiped at the tears sliding down your face. You could hear shouts coming from inside, see Steve and Brock being held apart by Fury and Coulson and a number of other people. It was a nightmare.

And it was all your fault.

* * *

Fury pushed Steve into the empty conference room and slammed the door behind himself.

“What the hell was that, Rogers?”

Steve sank into the nearest chair and slumped over the table, his head in his hands. “I’m sorry, sir,” he sighed. “I...I don’t know what came over me.”

“I do,” Fury said. “Rumlow insulted your wife.”

Steve shrugged and shook his head. “She’s...she’s not my wife.”

“So I gathered. We can talk about that later. And trust me, we will. For now, I need to know if you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” he mumbled. 

“Can’t say the same for Rumlow,” Fury chuckled. “You really socked him a good one.”

Steve swiped a hand through his hair. “I can explain all of this.”

“I’m sure you can,” Fury said. “So, start talking.”

Steve exhaled loudly before launching into the tale of how he’d come to hire Y/N to pretend to be his wife. By the time he was done, Fury was laughing and shaking his head.

“All of this to get Rumlow off your back?”

“Sort of,” Steve smiled warily. “It started out like that, but once Coulson found out, it exploded out of control. I didn’t know what else to do. I panicked when I thought the lie might get me in trouble.”

“Your solution was to tell a bigger lie?”

“I know how it looks sir, I do. But, things have changed. I’m sorry I lied about being married and if I could take it back, I would. I know you’re disappointed and if you don’t feel comfortable giving me the promotion after all of this, I totally understand.”

“We’ll discuss that tomorrow at work,” Fury said. “For now, I think you’ve got bigger issues. Like finding your wife...girlfriend...whatever she really is...and setting things right.”

“I’m sorry?” Steve murmured.

“Look, Steve, anyone with eyes and a brain can see that you and Y/N are far more than employee and employer. I’ve never seen two people who look to be more in love than the two of you. You can’t fake that chemistry. Go find her and talk to her.”

“I don’t suppose you know where she is?” he asked his boss.

“I think I saw that guy with Rumlow taking her outside,” Fury explained. “But I was a little busy keeping you from killing Brock to really know for sure.”

“Thank you, sir,” Steve sighed. “I’m sorry about all of this.”

“Be in my office at nine a.m. tomorrow,” Fury ordered. “We’ll talk about it then.”

Steve nodded his understanding and hurried from the conference room. He asked around, but no one had seen Y/N since the melee at breakfast. She wasn’t anywhere on the grounds, she wasn’t in their room, and her phone kept going straight to voicemail. After he checked their room, he made his way down to the registration desk.

“Mr. Rogers?” the clerk smiled at him. “Is everything alright, sir?”

“I was wondering if my wife left me a message?”

“Um...I just came in, let me look, okay?” The clerk disappeared, stepping into what Steve assumed was a back office of some sort.

He was gone forever, so long that Steve was ready to walk away when the clerk finally returned and handed him an envelope.

“Sorry that took so long,” the young man said. “It was under a stack of papers on the desk. I was about to give up when I saw the corner of it sticking out.”

“Thank you,” Steve mumbled, gingerly taking the envelope from the clerk. He took a couple of steps away and opened it. 

_ Steve - _

_ I’m so sorry about the mess I’ve gotten you into. I thought it best if I left, rather than cause any more problems for you. _

_ I want you to know, this weekend was the best of my life, and it was nice to live the dream for a while. You are an amazing man and I’m sure you will find a wife someday. Unfortunately, I don’t think I’m the girl for you. I don’t think I’m good enough for someone like you. _

_ Please don’t try to contact me. I think it best if we go our separate ways. _

_ Y/N _

In the envelope, behind the letter, was a stack of money. Three thousand dollars. Every dollar he had given her to pretend to be his wife.

“Damn it,” he muttered, shoving the letter and money into his jacket pocket. “Damn it, damn it, damn it.”

“Mr. Rogers?” the kid behind the counter piped up. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not,” he grumbled. “I’m not okay at all.”


	8. Not Giving Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve isn’t ready or willing to give up on you.

"Steve? Earth to Steve?"

Steve jumped as if he had been asleep, when really, he'd been trying to work. Try being the keyword. He was actually spending more time thinking about how to get Y/N to talk to him. He'd been calling and texting, even emailing, non-stop since yesterday, hoping the onslaught of messages would convince her to answer. No such luck.

"Hi, Maria. Sorry, I was off in space. What can I do for you?"

"Are you okay?" Maria asked, her hand on his shoulder.

"I'm fine," he sighed, shrugging off her hand and turning in his seat to look at her. "What can I do for you?"

"If you need anyone to talk to..."

"Thank you, Maria, but there’s only one person I want to talk to and she apparently doesn’t want to talk to me.”

Maria sank into the chair beside him. “Do you mean Y/N?” she asked quietly.

“Yes,” he nodded.

“I...I guess I don’t understand,” she murmured. “I thought you hired her to pretend to be your wife?”

“I did,” Steve replied. “But, along the way things changed.”

“You have feelings for her?” Maria snorted.

“Yes. Why is that so hard to believe? None of you know her, none of you know anything about her or why she does what she does. She let me in, gave me a chance to get to know her and I fell for her, and she fell for me. And Brock screwed it up.”

Maria pressed her hand to her forehead and mumbled something under her breath. She sat up straight and cleared her throat. “I am so sorry. I feel responsible…”

“What do you mean?”

“Brock called me Friday night, asked if I could check your employee file to see if you were married. I didn’t think it was a big deal, so I did it.”

“You...you told him -”

“That you weren’t married,” she finished. “He said you’d brought Y/N as a joke or something, that it wasn’t a real relationship. That...that’s why I was flirting with you so much. I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong because you weren’t really married. I thought I was playing along with whatever joke you were playing.”

“So, Brock knew all along,” Steve mumbled.

“God, Steve, I’m so sorry,” Maria said. “You must hate me.”

“You are definitely not the one I hate,” Steve smiled. “I think Brock has that all wrapped up.”

“What are you going to do?”

"I don't know," he mumbled.

"I really am sorry. If there's anything I can do to help, let me know." Maria rose to her feet and folded her hands in front of her. "Anyway, back to business. Fury would like to see you in his office at ten. Coulson will be there, too."

Steve glanced at his watch and nodded. That gave him about twenty minutes to prepare himself to be fired or at the least, have the promotion yanked away from him. He could also check in with Bucky, find out if he’d discovered anything on the errand Steve had sent him to do. He pulled his phone free and dialed his best friend’s number.

“Yo,” Bucky answered.

“Did you find her?” he asked.

“Nope,” Bucky said. “She doesn’t actually live where you picked her up.”

“I didn’t think so,” Steve sighed. “So, nothing, huh?”

“Well, I got chewed out by a cute redhead named Nat. I guess she’s Y/N’s best friend. Gave me an earful about how a real man would have come himself, a real man wouldn’t send his friend to look for the woman he supposedly loves. She was vicious. And a little scary. I got her number and a date on Friday.”

Steve couldn’t help but chuckle. Leave it to Bucky to get a date in the midst of Steve’s misery. “Did she tell you where Y/N is?”

“She wouldn’t,” Bucky explained. “She said she promised not to tell.”

“Great, now what am I supposed to do?”

“I wish I knew. I’ll keep working on Nat, see if I can convince her to tell me something. Sorry.”

“Thanks for trying,” Steve mumbled. He hung up without waiting for an answer. He checked his watch again, pushed himself to his feet, and hurried down the hall to the elevators. A few minutes later he was tapping on Fury’s office door.

“Come in!”

Steve stepped inside, nodded hello to both Fury and Coulson, and took the seat Fury indicated. He gripped the arms of the chair so hard he heard them creaking in protest.

“You okay, Rogers?” Fury asked.

“I’m a little nervous,” Steve admitted.

Fury sat back, his fingers templed in front of him. “Nothing to worry about,” he said. “You can relax. I’m not going to fire you.”

“You’re not?”

“No, Steve, I’m not. We all screw up, we all do stupid shit. Let’s call this whole thing your “stupid shit” moment shall we?” Fury smiled widely and shot a glance at Coulson. “We should probably be thanking you. If it wasn’t for this whole thing, Brock’s underhanded dealings never would have come to light.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Brock was working with Hydra,” Coulson piped up.

Hydra was SHIELD Aerodynamics stiffest competitor. There had been bad blood between the two companies for years, SHIELD always one step ahead of them, getting contracts when Hydra couldn’t, producing innovative products while Hydra seemed to languish in the Dark Ages. Rumor had it they were near to filing bankruptcy unless they could pull off some kind of miracle.

“We’ve suspected that vital information had been leaked for quite some time though we could never figure out how. It was never substantial enough to cause us to panic, but definitely worrisome. When IT went in this morning to wipe Brock’s computer, they found dozens of emails between Brock and Armin Zola,” Fury explained.

“The CEO of Hydra?” Steve sat forward in his seat, elbows on his knees. This had just gotten very interesting.

“Yes,” Coulson nodded. “Apparently they had some kind of quid pro quo thing going on. But Brock was panicking because they wanted information about our new defense contract and Brock knew if he didn’t get the team leader position, he wouldn’t be in a place to give them what they wanted. He would have lost out on hundreds of thousands of dollars.”

“My timing couldn’t have been worse,” Steve sighed. “When he figured out Y/N wasn’t really my wife -”

“- he saw it as an opportunity to discredit you and get the promotion he desperately needed,” Fury finished.

“Damn,” Steve mumbled.

“So,” Fury said, rising to his feet. “What I’d like to do now is put this whole thing behind us and move forward. You’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Steve stood and shook Fury’s hand. “I really am sorry for all the chaos, sir. I hope that we can do like you said, put it behind us and move on.”

“Any word on your girl?” Fury asked.

“No, sir. Still looking.”

“Well, I hope she turns up. I really do. You two seemed really in love. That was about the best fake marriage I’ve ever seen.”

“Thank you, I guess,” Steve smiled. “I hope she turns up, too.” Not that he was holding his breath that she would. He’d royally screwed things up and he’d scared her off.

“Don’t give up on her, Rogers,” Fury said firmly. “She seems like a good one. You’ll find her. Just keep trying.”

Steve said his goodbyes to Coulson and Fury and hurried back to his desk. He had a lot of work to do and a wife to find. He needed to get busy.

* * *

You sat in your car, staring across the parking lot, Steve’s car easily distinguishable among all the everyday sedans and SUVs. You incessantly tapped your fingers on the steering wheel, enough that you were driving yourself slightly crazy. You still weren’t sure what you were doing.

_ “Go talk to him,” Natasha insisted. _

_ “I can’t, Nat,” you sighed. “He probably hates me.” _

_ “I doubt that. Just go.” _

Nat was the reason you were sitting in your car, waiting for Steve to make an appearance. You wanted five minutes of his time, five minutes in which you could apologize, beg him for forgiveness, and then leave. You’d done enough to screw up his life, you didn’t need to do anything else.

A little after five, there was a mass exodus from the building, people leaving in huge groups, heading for their cars. You stepped out of your car, pulled your jacket tight around you, and made your way across the lot to Steve’s Audi. You leaned against the side of it and waited.

Thirty minutes later you were beginning to wonder if Steve was ever going to come out of the damn building. You were considering giving up and going home when the door opened and Steve came out, his nose buried in his phone, furiously typing away. Just as he finished typing and shoved it in his pocket, your phone vibrated. You didn’t bother to take it out of your pocket, because Steve had stopped dead in his tracks and was staring at you. You could have sworn you saw him mouth ‘thank God’ and then he was rushing toward you. Before you could stop him, he pulled you into his arms and kissed you.

“Jesus, doll, I’ve been calling and texting you,” he mumbled when he pulled away. He kept a hold of your arm as if he was afraid you might make a run for it.

“I know,” you murmured, caressing his cheek.

“You didn’t answer me and I was so worried -”

“I know, Steve, and I’m so sorry. I needed to think, to figure some stuff out.”

“And what did you figure out?”

You exhaled slowly and took a step away from him. “I’m not good for you, Steve. If we were to try to have a relationship, it would always be tainted. I would always and forever be your girlfriend who used to be a hooker.”

“Don’t call yourself that,” Steve growled.

The ferocity of his words startled you. You swallowed past the lump rising in your throat. “Please don’t make this harder than it has to be,” you begged.

“I don’t care what people say -”

“You say that now,” you interrupted. “But what about six months from now, or a year? What happens when some asshole brings up my past to hurt you or hurt me? Are you going to punch all of them in the nose?”

“If I have to,” he mumbled.

You closed your eyes and shook your head. “I won’t let you,” you sighed. “I’m not worth it.”

“Yes, you are,” Steve insisted.

You took another step away from him. “I lived the dream for one weekend,” you smiled wearily. “And it was amazing. But that’s all it was, Steve, a dream. I thought I could have it all, but I don’t think I can. Maybe I was never meant to. Every time it’s in my grasp, the world snatches it away from me. I’m sorry.” Another step backward. “I really am.”

“Y/N, don’t do this,” Steve murmured. “Please.”

“God, I messed everything up. I really am sorry.” You spun on your heel and sprinted for your car while Steve shouted after you. You ignored him, yanked open the car door and threw yourself inside. You could barely see through the tears streaming down your face. You weren’t even sure how you made it out of the parking lot and pointed in the right direction.

You blindly hit a button on your phone, praying you’d gotten the right one. “Call Nat,” you ordered.

Nat normally picked up right away; her phone was glued to her hand most of the time, but this time it rang six or seven times before she answered with an irritated huff.

“Y/N? Are you okay? Did you talk to Steve?”

“Can you come over?” you asked. 

“I-uh, well…” she mumbled.

“Please?” you begged. “I don’t want to be alone tonight. I can’t be alone tonight.”

“Alright,” she sighed. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.” The line disconnected.

You were almost home before you thought to look in your rearview mirror, sure that Steve would be following you. To your surprise, you didn’t see his red Audi behind you, just a black sedan following a little too close. It drove past you at breakneck speed when you parked in front of your building, just missing your door when you swung it open.

Once the black sedan was gone, you climbed gingerly from your car and made your way up the stairs. Your phone was going crazy, alternating between text messages and phone calls. You shoved open the door to the foyer and pulled your key out, then took your phone out of your pocket with your free hand, intent on turning it off for a little while. It seemed to leap out of your pocket, flying into the air in a crazy arc before landing at your feet and bouncing across the floor.

“Shit,” you muttered, staring at the phone with the now-cracked screen. That was the last straw. You burst into tears, loud, gasping sobs tearing out of your throat. You put your hands over your face and screamed in frustration. How much worse could it get?

“Drop something?”

Your head snapped up, a chill racing down your spine. The last person in the world you’d expected to see standing in front of you was Brock Rumlow, yet there he was, face twisted in some indescribable emotion, both of his eyes blackened, his nose swollen and bruised, his fists clenched at his side, your phone crushed in one of them. You swallowed past the panic rising in your throat.

“What are you doing here, Brock?” you asked shakily.

“Where’s Rogers?” he asked, moving so quickly to stand in front of you that it made your head spin.

“Not here,” you snapped. “How did you find me?”

“I saw you leaving SHIELD,” Brock replied, “so I followed you.”

“Then you should know that Steve isn’t with me,” you sighed. You took a step backward, your ass hitting the door. “Do you see him anywhere, Brock?” You looked around as if Steve was hiding behind a door or something. “He’s not here. If you were at SHIELD you know I left there without talking to him.”

“I’m not allowed on SHIELD property anymore,” he sulked. “I saw you leaving from the street. But, Rogers follows you around like a goddamn lost puppy. He’ll show.”

“Guess you were finally right about something, Rumlow.”

* * *

Steve watched Y/N drive away, stunned. He’d had no idea she felt like that; that she thought so little of herself. She didn’t carry herself or act like someone unsure of themselves. He had honestly thought she had it all together. To hear her say that she wasn’t worth “it” bothered him immensely. She meant everything to him. He had fallen and fallen hard.

That realization was what got him moving. He couldn’t let her drive out of his life forever. He wanted his happy ending, and for him, that happy ending was a life with her. She couldn’t just disappear into the sunset. Not without him. If he hurried, he could follow her, catch her, convince her that they should be together. He just had to catch up with her.

Fortunately, Y/N had to stop at the red light leaving the SHIELD complex; he caught sight of the little blue car she’d been driving when he got to the street, turning left onto the main road from the light. He hit the gas, hurrying to follow her, settling in behind a black sedan that was directly behind her. Fifteen minutes later, it was his turn to get stuck at a red light. He was terrified he would lose her, especially since he had no idea where she lived, but to his relief, she pulled to the side of the road and parked in front of a large apartment building on the corner. 

Steve watched as she parked her car, her door almost clipped by the black sedan as it passed her. Once he was through the light, he slowed down, eyes darting around trying to find a parking spot. To his dismay, he had to drive around the block to find someplace to park and walk back, so by the time he got back to Y/N’s building, she was already inside. He scrubbed a hand over his face and hurried down the sidewalk. He tried calling her, then texting her, but she didn’t answer, no matter how many times he tried. He’d just turned the corner to head into the building when he heard a scream.

Steve sprinted up the stairs and yanked open the door, just in time to hear Rumlow say “I’m not allowed on SHIELD property anymore. I saw you leaving from the street. But, Rogers follows you around like a goddamn lost puppy. He’ll show.”

“Guess you were finally right about something, Rumlow,” he snapped, moving quickly down the hall. “Get away from her.”

“I knew you’d show up,” Brock snarled, turning to face him.

“I said get away from her.”

“I don’t want  _ her _ , Rogers,” Brock said. “It’s you I want to talk to.”

Y/N pushed past Brock and ran to Steve, stepping behind him, her fingers twisting in his shirt.

“I don’t think I have anything to say to you.” He took Y/N’s hand and squeezed it gently. “ _ We _ don’t have anything to say to you. Just leave.”

“You got me fired,” Brock growled.

“No, you got yourself fired,” Steve replied calmly. “I had nothing to do with that.”

“You had everything to do with that,” Brock interrupted him. “You had no right to take that job away from me. I’ve been with SHIELD for years. Years. And you come in with your pretty face and your fake wife and everything changes. How the hell is that fair?”

Steve sighed heavily. He wasn’t going to try and reason with Rumlow; it would be completely useless. “Brock, walk away now before I have Y/N call the police.” He handed his cell phone to her. “You’re trespassing. You’ve already lost your job, what else do you want to lose?”

For a second, Steve thought that Brock might do something stupid, the look on his face so twisted and angry that it scared him. But then all the air seemed to go out of him; Brock’s shoulders slumped and his head dropped. He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled slowly. He didn’t say anything, just slunk past them.

Steve had just turned to console Y/N when a hard body hit him from behind, knocking him to the floor. A punch landed in his kidney, a startled shout leaving him. He struggled to get Brock off of him, twisting and turning, his hands and feet flailing. One of his hands must have connected with Brock’s head, because he fell to the side with a loud grunt, his hands fisted in Steve’s shirt, trying to pull him over. Steve planted his foot and pushed, knocking Brock’s head into the floor, allowing him to slip free of Brock’s grip.

He scrambled to his knees, then he lunged at Brock, pinning him to the ground, his forearm resting on Brock’s neck. The blood was roaring in his ears and he was pretty sure he was growling, the sound loud and feral.

Brock’s knee came up, connecting with Steve’s gut, knocking the wind out of him. He struggled to breathe and hang on at the same time, but it wasn’t working. Brock punched him, his head rocking to the side, starbursts of light exploding in front of his eyes. He fell to the floor, gasping for air.

“Steve!”

A tall brunette appeared in his peripheral vision, yanked Brock to his feet, and shoved him against the wall, holding him in place.

“B-buck?” he mumbled weakly.

“Yeah,” his best friend nodded. “You okay?”

Steve pushed himself to his hands and knees, his hair falling over his forehead. “I think so, yeah. What the hell are you doing here?”

Bucky tipped his head to the side where Y/N stood next to her friend, Nat. “I was with Nat. I was dropping her off when we saw the commotion through the window. Guess I got here just in time, huh?”

“Just like old times,” Steve chuckled. He pushed himself to his feet, his hand on his stomach. “Thanks.”

“Nat called the cops, they should be here any minute.”

As if on cue, the sound of sirens filled the air. Brock slumped to the floor, a dejected look on his face. Bucky stayed in front of him, arms crossed, watching him closely. 

Y/N launched herself at Steve, falling into his arms, sobbing quietly. He held her, crushing her to his chest, kissing the crown of her head, and murmuring softly. When she calmed down and caught her breath, he set her on her feet and brushed the tears from her cheeks.

“He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“N-no,” she stammered. “Just scared me, that’s all. But if you hadn’t come, he might have. What are you doing here anyway?”

“I came after you,” he shrugged. “I wasn’t going to let you get away.” She opened her mouth, most likely to argue with him, but he cut her off, his mouth on hers, kissing her.

“Every time you open your mouth to argue with me, I’m just going to kiss you,” he murmured, his lips brushing hers.

“Maybe I like arguing with you,” she giggled. She wrapped her arms around his waist, tipped her head back, and smiled at him. “Or maybe I really like kissing you.”

“Either way is fine with me,” Steve chuckled. “I like kissing you, too.”


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been nearly a year since you met Steve.

“Hey, doll,” Steve murmured, pulling you into his arms. 

You sighed and rested your head against his chest. You were so glad to see him, to have his arms around you. It had been a long week and today had felt like it had lasted an eternity. You just wanted to go home and sleep, preferably in Steve’s arms.

Instead, you were standing outside of yours and Steve’s favorite restaurant, Olmsted, catching your breath before you went inside to meet Bucky and Nat. Today was a day to be celebrated and you were excited to share the news with your friends.

“You okay?” Steve asked, drawing you from your internal musings.

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “It was a little disconcerting. I’m just glad it’s over.”

“Same.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Let’s go see the lovebirds, shall we?”

Steve burst out laughing. “Oh God, did Bucky tell you what they did?”

“I’m scared to ask,” you muttered, your fingers intertwined with his. “Those two are crazy. What did they do?”

“They’re taking a Krav Maga class,” he said.

“Oh my god,” you laughed. “Nothing like taking Nat to something that teaches her to kick his ass.”

“She’s already kicking his ass,” Steve chuckled. “He will literally do anything that woman asks. He is so smitten, it’s not even funny.”

“Trust me, Natasha is just as taken with him,” you said. “Do you know how many late-night gushing-about-Bucky phone calls I’ve endured?”

Steve pulled open the door and ushered you into the restaurant, his hand on the middle of your back. “Too many,” he whispered in your ear. “I don’t like waking up and you’re not there.”

You would have thrown your arms around his neck and kissed the hell out of him if the hostess hadn’t appeared to lead you through the restaurant to a table in the back where Bucky and Natasha were seated, just inches apart.

Nat kissed Bucky’s cheek before she jumped to her feet and embraced you. She dragged you to the table as if you weren’t already headed that direction. You sat down, your hands in hers. She was talking a mile a minute, not that you were catching much of what she was saying, so you nodded along, waiting for her to stop so you could talk.

“Nat, breathe,” Bucky teased.

Natasha rolled her eyes, but she gave your hands one last squeeze before sitting back in her chair. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “How’d it go today?”

“Not bad,” you replied, reaching for Steve. You needed him; he was your rock. He took your hand, holding it tightly in his. “A little unsettling. I could feel Brock staring daggers at me the entire time I testified, but I just focused on what the lawyer was saying and answered truthfully. It was all I could do. Now, we wait. The prosecutor said it should only be a couple of days before the case goes to the jury.”

“She did great,” Steve murmured, giving you a smile. “I was really proud of her.” He pressed a kiss to your temple.

“I couldn’t have done it without you, baby,” you grinned, leaning into him. His arm slid around your waist, tugging you closer.

“Alright, what is going on?” Bucky asked, sitting back and crossing his arms over his chest. “You two seem extra, I don’t know, disgustingly in love today. Why?”

Steve laughed and shook his head. “You know me too well.” He lifted your hand above the edge of the table, holding it up so they could see the beautiful diamond solitaire on your left hand.

Nat’s mouth fell open. “Oh my god, that’s stunning,” she gasped. “So, you finally popped the question?”

“It’s about damn time,” Bucky snorted.

“Yes,” you giggled. “He popped the question. I am now officially going to be Mrs. Rogers. For real this time.”

Nat squealed and launched herself out of her chair, nearly tackling you to the floor. She completely ignored the other patrons staring at her like she’d lost her mind. “Champagne,” she said when she released you. “We need champagne.”

“I already ordered it,” Steve said, gesturing at the waiter making his way toward you with four glasses and a bottle. “I called ahead.”

Bucky reached across the table and shook his friend’s hand and gave you a sweet smile. “Took him long enough, huh?” he murmured, winking at you.

You laughed and nodded. You certainly didn’t have any problem with the fact that Steve had taken nearly ten months to propose. Your relationship had started off in the most insane way and God knew, you wanted to make sure the two of you were really ready to be together. Not to mention, Brock’s trials - one for assault and one for corporate espionage - and Steve’s promotion had consumed a lot of time. You also had a lot of things to clear up in your personal life, first and foremost, your job. Quitting the escort business had been easy, but getting yourself established in a new career had taken some time. Steve’s friend, Wanda, had been a huge help and you were extremely grateful to her. She had become a good friend in the process. She’d even agreed to make your wedding dress if and when you decided to marry Steve. You couldn’t wait to tell her that time had come.

The waiter poured four glasses of champagne, murmured his congratulations, then he left you to your celebration. Steve raised his glass, his eyes on you, your hand in his.

“To the future Mrs. Rogers,” he said. “I can’t wait to make you my wife, for real this time.”

The four of you clinked your glasses together, then you leaned over and pressed your lips to his ear.

“I love you,” you whispered.

Steve turned to you and brushed a kiss across your lips. “I love you more,” he smiled. “Forever and ever.”


End file.
